The Mages of the Mountains
by Midhinge-Moth
Summary: Enchancia is on the brink of battle, and Roland needs more than their bumbling royal sorcerer can offer. Therefore, Cedric is sent to train with some old friends of Goodwin. In a fit of frustration and shame, Cedric sets out to find a band of elite dark mages said to reside within the mountains. More questions arise than answers, and time is quickly running out. Cedfia
1. Chapter 1

King Roland II of Enchancia sat in his office chair, hand speedily scribbling on papers, his face and desk barely lit by the expensive lamp set upon the sleek mahogany surface. It was late—far later than the man normally stayed up—and the Queen had gone to sleep with just herself that night, curled on their king-sized mattress by her lonesome. This only further bothered Roland, whose mind was a mess of village statistics and battle theories. His hand slipped, feather pen effectively ripping the thin sheet, and he threw it to the waste bin with a growl, retrieving another blank page.

A knock at the door caused the shaky King to jump, hands tearing the fresh paper, and Roland unsteadily turned to massage his swelling temples, teeth clenched. Upon allowing the other entrance, Baileywick, their elderly steward, entered the room. The grey-haired man's shoulders slumped when his eyes fell on Roland's face.

"Your majesty," Baileywick approached the King slowly, "are you aware of how late it is? Perhaps you should retire for the night; sleep on your thoughts."

"How could I sleep at a time like this?" Roland looked up to the other with weary eyes. The rather dashing blonde King was still as handsome as he had been a decade ago, the day he'd married Miranda. There were a few wrinkles wrought here and there, a few gray hairs, but his strong jaw and flawless form remained untouched through the years. Recent stress had begun to take its toll however. Baileywick's frown deepened.

"You can't expect to run a kingdom pulling as many all-nighters as you have of late, my King." Baileywick took a step closer, hands folded neatly behind his back. "I'm sure things will be sound just for one night, your majesty. Allow your body some rest."

Roland sat in silence, before he slowly rose from his chair, turning to look out the large glass windows in the walls. He could see far out, beyond the lush grass and elegant stone steps of the castle he called home, all the way out to the faint light of the village he'd sworn to protect. "I can't let them down, Baileywick."

"I know, I know." The steward sighed.

"Our guards have spotted several groups of intruders on the outskirts of Enchancia. The Izuvell kingdom has already established problems with us, and if I am to guess, I would say these strangers to be soldiers. I cannot let a war break out, but I _have_ to protect my people!" Roland wanted to slam his fists upon the thick glass, but refrained from doing so.

"I suppose the only option would be to tighten our defenses, your majesty."

"But how, Baileywick? We may have more soldiers, but _they_ have some of the world's most well-known sorcerers—hell, we could tighten watch and defense %200 and it still wouldn't make a difference."

"Well, er… we have a sorcerer too, your majesty…"

Roland scoffed.

"Come on, Baileywick. You and I both know the royal sorcerer is about as useful as a pet rock." The King threw his arms up in exasperation. "I mean really, I'd have better luck taking a patient straight out of psychiatric care and handing them a wand—'here, now go save the kingdom'!"

"It's always worth a shot, your highness." Baileywick offered weakly, turning to look out the glass windows as well, towards the endless night sky. "I suppose there isn't much else we can do, is there? Besides, Princess Sofia rather likes Cedric. _She_ sees something in him. There must be _something_ there, don't you think?"

Sofia's face popped into Roland's head. She was his daughter, and though not of his own flesh and blood, the years since she had moved to the castle with her peasant-turned-Queen of a mother had transformed her into more than the King could've ever hoped of his own children. Sofia was, in some aspects, even more fit to inherit the crown than her older royal twin step-siblings.

Still.

"Sofia is only a child."

"She's seventeen now, my King. In many neighboring kingdoms she would already be considered an adult—perhaps even wed, with children."

"Yes, well—even then… even Sofia can make mistakes. She's been trying to coax that dolt of a sorcerer into greatness since she stepped foot into this castle. We don't have time for any more gentle persuasions, Baileywick. We need strength, and we need it _now._ " Roland bit the nail of his thumb, mind racing.

"Well you must admit he's made quite a bit of progress since Princess Sofia entered the picture…" Baileywick cringed. He knew full well that Cedric was incapable of the amount of greatness the King was requiring, but the steward couldn't find optimism elsewhere. The only sliver of light he could find in the vast darkness of their plight was the hope of a strong sorcerer.

"No, no… I can't put that much responsibility on Cedric's shoulders. No way."

They stood in silence for a while. Baileywick bit his lip. Roland's thoughts were elsewhere, back to theories and battle techniques. At the very least they needed to make it _seem_ like they had sorcerers of equal talent to those of Izuvell's, but there was no room for a slip-up on the sorcerer's part. If Roland trusted Cedric with the task of creating such an illusion, he knew that the man would most likely make a mistake… and not even Cedric could recover from a blunder at that point.

If a mistake was made, battle may ensue. And, if so, Enchancia was as good as gone. They had men, yes—they had a fleet of guards ready for war. However, they lacked magic. They lacked healing properties. A whole army was useless against a few sorcerers of such talent.

"Well there must be _something_ we can do, sire…" Baileywick sighed. "But… for tonight, you really do need sleep. We can ask the Lord Commander of the best defense mechanisms first thing in the morning."

Roland remained quiet, thinking.

They had no other sorcerers… did they?

The current royal sorcerer's father, previously titled "Goodwin the Great" from his methods of success and speedy thinking, was still alive. Cedric was not an ounce like his father—Cedric was not strong-willed or particularly _heroic,_ in any sense of the word. Goodwin had fought dragons and evil wards, whereas Cedric only battled his own various mistakes. It was a contrast that was most unfortunate for Roland, and Enchancia.

Goodwin had once stood proudly (and rightly) by Roland II's father, Roland I. The two were a good team, although the former king had been more of a goofball than his son, getting himself in trouble quite often. Goodwin, being the responsible and dependable one, equaled out the King's madness, always saving the man and getting him out of sticky situations. It was quite different, Cedric and King Roland's relationship. They were not so bonded, nor so close.

Roland II had been wed immediately following his eighteenth birthday—the princess was a beautiful, fair skinned and well-known beauty. She had the biggest brown eyes, curliest blonde hair, and softest voice in all of the kingdoms. Roland was considered lucky to have such a fine queen to rule beside him, and though he was not so satisfied because he hardly knew the young woman, he followed through with it because it was his duty.

Roland II's father passed soon after the young prince's coronation, his mother following suit. Goodwin retired as a sorcerer, and Cedric took his father's former place as royal sorcerer. Roland had grown up with Cedric in the castle, though the gangly younger male was always very awkward and anti-social. While Roland had been strapping and strong-willed, a popular among ladies, Cedric was his polar opposite.

Roland couldn't help but feel a tad bit sorry for his younger acquaintance—that was, however, often replaced with frustration and resentment. Cedric tended to mess up _too_ much, and in ways that seemed almost impossibly bad. If you asked for an everlasting rose, you got a thunderstorm. If you wanted a few raining flower petals, you were greeted with a swarm of locusts.

Goodwin was a rather harsh and calculating father, that was true. The greatly known sorcerer was exceedingly judgmental, always leaning over his only son's shoulder, waiting to see him do something wrong, first to point out a mistake. Cedric had a resulting nervousness of higher ranking individuals and superiors because of this.

Nonetheless, it did not forgive Cedric's… _wickedness_. The man was known to say rather strange things aloud to his pet raven, voice his displeasure with every magic show he had to put on or party he had to enchant. He complained constantly, but never improved. He wanted to fight, he wanted to be a hero better than his father, but he was incapable. Everyone knew it, not just Roland.

"Sire…?" Baileywick snapped Roland out of his thoughts.

"Ah, yes—uh, I've already spoken to the Lord Commander. I'm not normally one to use magic for battle, but… it looks like I haven't a choice anymore." Roland stared scrutinizingly at his own reflection in the window, hands stiffly held behind his back. "Call Sir Goodwin and Cedric for a meeting first thing in the morning. We must discuss important matters regarding the safety of Enchancia, and whether or not Cedric is competent enough to be our royal sorcerer any longer."


	2. Chapter 2

It was seven in the morning by the time Cedric was done mixing the newest potion demanded by Princess Amber. She'd come barging into his chambers the previous morning demanding a spell to make her hair glow "heavenly" for an upcoming wedding of an old classmate's she was to be attending the next day. Cedric had attempted to explain the improbabilities for him to be capable of gathering each rather uncommon ingredient and producing the concoction perfectly in less than a day, but the young woman stood by her requests.

Princess Sofia had come along not long after, to find the sorcerer in shambles. He was scrambling, searching speedily through several thick spell books at once to find the exact ingredients and amounts, writing them down on a piece of parchment. He hadn't noticed her initial knock, to which she knocked again, louder, and he called for her to come in.

"Whoa, what's going on here, Mr. Cedric?" she watched him fly from the books to his written ingredients and to his current shelves of supplies.

"Ah—sorry, Princess, I don't think we'll be able to do your magic lessons today. Princess Amber has requested particular, very difficult potion by tomorrow…"

"Oh, I can help you then!" Sofia clasped her hands together happily. Cedric paused a moment, turning to stare to the happy princess with an eyebrow raised.

She was always so… _happy._ Sure it wasn't new to him, but it still stopped him in his tracks from time to time. Why anyone, especially a rich, beautiful young teenage princess, would want to spend time in the outdoors searching through dirt and bugs to find some potion ingredients was beyond him.

Ah—since when did he refer to her as _beautiful_? Cedric shook his head. The anxiety must be getting to him…

"What?" Sofia asked when the sorcerer failed to move. He was still staring.

"Oh nothing, nothing…" Cedric quickly resumed to his work. He checked off ingredients he already had, giving a loud groan at the ones he'd have to go find.

The two eventually made their way outdoors, Sofia holding the basket she'd given Cedric to keep his ingredient-picking less messy. Before, he'd simply stuff the herbs and such in the pockets of his robe, often times meaning a mess, and frequently dropping things. She'd added a dark purple bow the same color as the sorcerer's robe onto the handle so people knew who it belonged to. While it embarrassed Cedric to carry around a girly bow-clad basket, he did use it. It was much easier, he had to admit.

The first few ingredients were the easier ones—the root of a cranberry bush, a pickled dragon fruit, one wilted rose, and a few mint leaves. The two were rather dirty by the time they'd finished with these tasks, but Sofia was still happy as a clam.

Suddenly the young woman gasped, picking up her dress and running through the grass. Cedric had at first looked around bewildered, before realizing that she had simply seen a blueberry bush. The princess ran to it, picking blueberries and calling Cedric to come try them. The man sighed, but couldn't help smile as he made his way over to her.

"Mr. Cedric, look! Taste one!" Sofia held up a single blueberry out of the handful she had, bringing it up to his face.

"What are you doing? And how many times have I told you not to call me 'Mr.'? It makes me feel old." He turned his face away from the blueberry.

"Aw come on, just one? They're good, I promise!" Sofia smiled sweetly, and while Cedric felt like a child being hand fed, he reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed her to push the blueberry past his lips. He bit down on the berry, a rush of sweet liquid bursting over his tongue. Sofia watched eagerly. "Well? It's good, right?" she smiled.

"Yes, yes, great." He turned away, cheeks feeling hot. "Now can we get along with the ingredients, Princess? All this dilly dallying isn't going to help."

Yep! What's the next item?" she popped a few blueberries into her mouth.

"A palm-sized piece of shale." Cedric began walking, to which Sofia immediately followed suit.

"What's shale?" she ate a few more berries. The sorcerer pulled out an old map he often used when needing to find specific places he wasn't familiar with.

"Shale is a sedimentary rock composed of mud… often found in lake deposits, which is exactly where we're headed." Cedric pinpointed the area where a small lake was rumored to have once been, but had dried out a few centuries earlier. He remembered to add a note on the map of where exactly it was for future reference.

"Mud? Hm, strange. Potions are weird, aren't they Mr. Cedric? The ingredients, I mean. They seem quite… random." Sofia had finished her blueberries by then, clasping her dainty hands behind her back. Cedric glanced at her, immediately regretting the decision upon seeing those striking blue orbs looking right back.

"Magic in general is, in a sense, very strange. I suppose that's why it's called _magic,_ Princess. The forces behind it are mysterious, even supernatural." Cedric licked his dry lips. Sofia walked right beside him, sometimes stepping so close he could feel the fabric of her dress, or the heat of her body. He moved away several times, but she moved along with him.

"Yeah, you're right. It's a world of endless possibilities, isn't it?" Sofia smiled brightly, raising her hands to the sky, looking through the canopy of trees above, where a few rays of sunshine peeked through.

"Technically, yes, but morally, no." Cedric bit his lip, looking at the ground. When he got a glimpse of her feet, he couldn't help but notice how small they were. How did she walk on those? It was surely against the laws of physics! Were her toes that tiny too? After spending so much time with the girl, he wondered how he'd missed that detail. What else hadn't he noticed?

"What's that mean, Mr. Cedric?" her smile dropped, and she watched his face closely. He frowned, brows furled, deep in thought.

Finally, he opened his mouth. "Well, Princess, while any spell can certainly be possible… so can the ingredients… and some of the things required for certain spells is greatly looked down upon."

Sofia responded with a simple "Oh." Sure, she'd heard of dark magic before. In all honesty, she tried to ignore it, like it didn't exist. She wanted to think that if she didn't give it any mind, it would go away eventually. Such a taboo practice, and yet, a part of her felt morbid curiosity. Had Cedric ever tried black magic? Would he be upset if she asked?

Suddenly Cedric stopped. Sofia was too caught up in her thoughts to notice, but the sorcerer nimbly wrapped an arm around her waist before she could walk off of the ridge, speedily pulling her to his chest with a gasp. Sofia held onto him for support, looking down into the ten foot canyon left by the dried up lake.

"Merlin's mushrooms child, watch where you're going! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Cedric was breathing heavy, and Sofia could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest. She smiled up at him.

"Were you worried about me, Mr. Cedric?" he looked down into her eyes, those eyes. If he didn't know any better, the sorcerer would swear he was staring into a pool of deep, stagnant water. They captivated him, held him motionless in their gaze.

"Well, of course…" he murmured. Awkwardly, he took out his wand, casting a spell to float them to the bottom of the lake deposit. The layers of rock were all out in the open, a beautiful story of the past laid out for all to see. Sofia found herself feeling the soft walls, running her fingers through the lines, layers and cracks. She wanted to burn the look and feel into her memory. It was rock, only rock… and yet it showed such a history—such a long, drawn out, never-ending existence. What had these stone walls seen? What creatures had set foot upon these very slabs of earth?

Cedric wasn't so fascinated. He took a few palm-sized pieces of shale from the earth, setting them in the basket. The last thing on the list was the hardest—a griffin's feather. There was a partially known meadow not too far off from their current location said to attract griffins. Cedric marked it on his map, and they made their way out of the lake deposit.

"How are we supposed to get the feather, Mr. Cedric?" Sofia bit her lip. "I mean, we don't want to hurt any of the griffins, and they're so _fast_."

"A paralysis spell, I suppose."

"Will that hurt the griffin?"

"No."

Sofia nodded, relieved. She would've used her amulet, given to her when she was eight and fresh to being a royal by Roland II. It was a special amulet—the amulet of Avalor—allowing her to talk to animals. However, she kept the amulet's powers a secret. If anyone knew the possibilities of what could be done with the amulet, it was sure to get out. There would no doubt be thieves and others of malevolent intent who'd want it in their possession.

It took less than twenty minutes to reach the meadow, to which the two approached cautiously. There were a few griffins sprawled around the meadow lazily, some grazing on the tall grass or chewing the bright flowers. Cedric used a simple invisibility spell that only lasted a couple minutes. They'd have to be fast.

" _Prohibere motus!"_ Cedric thrust his wand towards the nearest griffin, and although it at first jumped to attention at the sound of his voice, it quickly fell limp. The remaining griffins fled with screeches of terror.

Running up to the griffin, Cedric quickly plucked a feather. Sofia took a minute to attempt explaining to the creature that the effects would wear off soon, to which Cedric grabbed her hand and dragged her away. They ran as far as they could as fast as they could, glancing back every hundred feet to make sure no other griffins had come back to defend their friend.

They eventually made it to a meadow over halfway back to the castle, huffing loudly. Cedric collapsed in the grass, a poof of flower petals resulting from his weight. A few fell in his hair and face. Sofia giggled, picking them from the sorcerer's form. He watched with a look of perplexity.

"You're always so messy, Mr. Cedric." Sofia smiled endearingly, a light hearted giggle escaping her lips.

"I'll show you messy, you bewildering woman!" Cedric quickly reached up, hands reaching around her, pulling her into the field of flowers with him. Sofia squealed, squirming and attempting to wriggle out of his grasp as he pushed her further into the colorful plants. She eventually managed to slip from his hands, pulling herself to her feet and holding her dress up as she began running, her sweet laughter leaving a trail the sorcerer couldn't resist following.

"Get back here, you!" Cedric sprang to his feet, chasing the princess. He tripped over his robe, causing her to laugh harder. "Oh, laugh at me, will you?" he smiled widely in jest, slipping from the heavy robe and hopping to his feet.

Sofia squeaked loudly, attempting to continue running, but Cedric's legs were much longer. He dove for her, to which she turned sharply, and the sorcerer fell hard on his hands and knees. When he rose, Sofia grinned cunningly. She held her arms out, throwing herself at the older male, sending them both colliding with the ground.

The two were a giggling mess of tangled limbs, Sofia lying on top of the sorcerer, flower pets floating gingerly from the air around them. The princess lifted her head from the man's chest, smiling widely, heart about to burst. Slowly, their laughter began to fade out. It began to dawn on Cedric their position.

But—he didn't care. Her face was so close, those hypnotizing eyes so close, looking right through him, right into his soul. He slowly placed his hands on her hips above him. She'd already begun leaning in. Cedric could feel her breath hot on his lips.

Suddenly a screech broke the two out of their moment, and their heads snapped just in time to see the huge griffin swooping down, claws grasping tight around Sofia's waist, yanking her into the air. Cedric instinctively reached for his want, before realizing it was in his robe, several feet away. The man sprung to his feet, kicking up dirt and flowers as he lunged for his robe, reaching in the pocket for his wand.

Sofia was brought high up into the sky, and felt dizzy looking down from such a height.

"This is what you get, filthy humans!" the griffin growled, voice deep and strong.

"No! You don't understand, we wer—" Sofia suddenly felt the sharp claws leave her flesh, and her body began falling down, faster and faster.

" _Supernatet eam!"_ Cedric flicked his wrist, and instantly Sofia stopped in her descent, encased in a strong bubble-like blue sphere, only feet from the ground. Seeing that Sofia was safe, Cedric jerked his body towards the griffin, wand pointed directly at the beast. " _Nihilque illum nocuit!"_ Cedric yelled. A blast erupted from the tip of the wand, colliding with the griffin's side as it flew, causing it to collide with a tree.

"No, stop!" Sofia yelped, hands pressed tight against the surface of the bubble. The griffin fell from the tree to the ground below, leaving long, jagged claw marks on the bark. He stood wavering on his feet unsteadily, but determined.

"What have you done to my son?!" the griffin screeched loudly, his brawny voice booming over the surrounding area, causing all other nearby wildlife to flee. Cedric grasped his family wand tightly, moving to stand over where Sofia remained floating over the ground.

"He's fine!" Sofia screamed, fists slamming against the shield. The griffin briefly looked to her, before being hit by another blast from Cedric. "No! Stop, Cedric!"

"What are you talking about, Princess? He tried to kill you!" Cedric hesitantly held his wand. The griffin rose, charging at the thin sorcerer. Cedric leaped to the side, the griffin's beak barely grazing his shoulder. The man winced, instinctively grabbing at his wound. He stood firmly, panting, now bleeding.

Sofia banged and banged against the bubble, slowly cracking the hard surface, until it finally shattered, sending her to the ground. She leaped up. Cedric was still standing, his wand in his hand but no longer raised. She'd told him not to hurt the griffin, and he was listening.

The griffin charged once again.

"NO!" Sofia jumped in between the two, effectively stopping the winged creature in its tracks. The chestnut-feathered beast studied Sofia with its piercing gold eyes. "Your son is fine." Sofia leaned in, talking softly to keep Cedric from hearing. The griffin's eyes widened, slightly taken aback.

"You can… understand me?" he looked her over, perplexed, tail waving behind him.

"Yes, I can." Sofia smiled reassuringly, reaching up to grasp the amulet of Avalor. The griffin's eyes followed her movement. "My amulet allows me to speak with animals."

"Peculiar." He murmured in his gruff voice.

"Your son is fine Mr. Griffin, I promise. You see, we temporarily paralyzed him in order to get some feathers that we direly need for a potion." She smiled apologetically.

"I see." The strong creature sat back on his haunches. "My name is Bastien. Why did you not just ask?"

"I can't let anyone know about the amulet's powers." She whispered, gesturing back to Cedric, who was staring still in disbelief.

"Is he not trustworthy?" Bastien asked.

"No, that's not it… I just… I can't risk it getting out. Chaos would ensue. This amulet can curse."

"You can't trust your own mate with these secrets?"

"Oh, he's not—we're not…" Sofia bit her lip. Bastien raised his nonexistent eyebrow.

"You humans are strange." He shook his head. "My son is sure to wake up, you swear on your life, young human?"

"Yes, I swear. If he doesn't, you may come and slay me." Sofia grinned. "I am Princess Sofia of Enchancia, just south of here. And that man back there, that is Cedric, our royal sorcerer."

"Alright, Princess Sofia." Bastien turned to leave, before glancing back at her. "But next time, just ask."

Flapping his wide, strong wings, the large griffin soared through the air, back towards the area of the meadow his son had been paralyzed in. Cedric was left speechless, his mouth agape, baffled.

"How… Princess, how did you do that?"

"I just stayed calm." Sofia smiled, quickly avoiding eye contact, moving to pick up the sorcerer's robe and basket of ingredients. She handed Cedric his robe, to which he slowly took. When he failed to continue moving, Sofia took the robe back and began putting his arms in it. He eventually came back to earth and finished putting his robe on.

By the time the two had made their way back to the castle the sun had set. They were both dirty, Cedric was still injured from Bastien, and dinnertime was to be starting soon. Sofia was forced to hurry back to her room to wash up, and Cedric returned to his tower to finish the potion.

Time was running out, and Cedric knew that. He very quickly cleaned and wrapped his wound, not having enough time to heal himself, and went on to researching how to make the potion exactly. It was a long and complicated process, and all measurements had to be exact, put in at the very right time. Cedric began to painstakingly mix the brew, crushing the first few herbs while the cauldron heated up.

By the time Cedric was finally done with the potion, it was 6:40 A.M. He was exhausted, sweaty, and still dirty. His wound had begun throbbing several hours ago, but he was forced to ignore it to keep a keen eye on his brew.

Just as he was preparing to get a few hours rest, a loud knock came at his door, causing him to jump.

"What is it?" the sorcerer grumbled, running a hand through his gray bangs.

"King Roland has requested to see you." Baileywick opened the door, looking the other man over before raising an eyebrow. "What happened to _you_?" the steward asked, crossing his arms.

"That blasted blonde princess, that's what." Cedric growled tiredly. "She simply _had_ to have a special magic potion in less than a day. You wouldn't believe what I've been through in the last 24 hours."

"Yes, well, clean yourself up and head to the King's study."

"Gah, _why?_ Does it have to be right this _minute?"_ Cedric threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Yes. It is very important you see him _immediately_." Baileywick nodded firmly, eyes indicating he meant business.

Cedric, droopy-eyed and worn out, gave Baileywick Amber's potion before the steward left. He moved on to wearily change his clothes, clean his face up, and redress his wound.

Finally, he made his way down from his tower, slowly heading towards the King's office. Upon knocking and being told by Roland to enter, he opened the door. When he saw Roland standing at the desk next to his father, Cedric felt his stomach drop.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I plan on releasing two chapters a week—this story will most likely be book-sized, seeing as I have sooo many ideas for it and I want to fit them all in!_

Goodwin had arrived immediately after being called on, and Roland took a few minutes to talk to the retired sorcerer before calling upon Cedric. The king wasted no time getting into detail on Enchancia's current threats and their enormous need for at least _one_ experienced sorcerer. Goodwin remained quiet, taking everything in, noting Roland's sleep deprived face and ruffled appearance. The king looked very much unlike himself, and that was worrying.

"Well," Goodwin smiled at the king, twirling his grey mustache, "we're in quite a sticky situation, aren't we?" Goodwin knew what the king was hinting at—and, in all honestly, the old sorcerer had to agree. Cedric was not the hero type, nor was he equipped or prepared enough to take on such a task as a fleet of men, much less a whole band of powerful sorcerers such as those known in Izuvell.

"I know that Cedric isn't… _good enough_ , despite his slim improvement over the years." Goodwin crossed his arms, leaning back against a bookshelf, choosing to look out the window, out to the lush scenery.

"I'm just afraid he'll make a mistake…" Roland rubbed his hands over his face. "I've gone over all of the battle tactics, all of the manmade illusions, all of the little magic tricks we could try to teach the guards. But, Goodwin—these are _guards,_ not magicians. They know to fight and they know to defend but put a wand in their hand and they'll stare at you like you have two heads. I just don't know what to do."

"War has not been officially announced?"

"No, not yet. They're provoking us. They're testing our borders, seeing how far they can push us. They want us to declare war first, perhaps to make themselves look victimized." Roland finally moved his head, face directing towards Goodwin, eyes worn and pleading. "I really don't want to replace Cedric, Goodwin. I don't want to break the tradition, the bond between our families… You and Dad—you two were always so close. I just—I don't know…"

"I know," Goodwin moved towards the weary king, placing a coarse hand over the blonde's shoulder reassuringly. "You have to do what's best for your kingdom. I understand that."

"But Cedric—"

"Cedric will understand too. He may not right now, but eventually."

Suddenly a single knock sounded at the door. "Come in." Roland said, to which the door slowly opened and Cedric peeked his head in.

"You called, sire?" Cedric murmured. He opened the door wider, allowing his body enough room to slip into the large office. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed his father in the corner, gulping nervously, stomach dropping. He nervously held his gloved hands together, looking back and forth between the men anxiously.

"Yes, good. Come in, Cedric, we must talk." Roland gestured for the younger sorcerer to come closer, to which the pale man hesitantly did. "Now, you've heard of the recent threats by the kingdom of Izuvell, haven't you Cedric?"

"Y-yes, your majesty…"

"And you know of their twelve experienced sorcerers?"

"T-t- _twelve?!"_ Cedric's eyes bulged, and he instinctively backed up.

"Yes, twelve. All renown sorcerers and sorceresses."

"Wh—and, what exactly does that have to do with me…?" Cedric held tight to the family wand. He bit the inside of his cheek.

He knew, really. He knew.

"Cedric," Goodwin spoke up so Roland wouldn't have to, "King Roland and I have been speaking. And, while we both agree you have improved over the years you've spent as royal sorcerer, neither of us think you are ready for what's brewing between Izuvell and Enchancia."

"F-father!" Cedric took a step forward, eyes wildly searching Goodwin's.

"I don't want to hear it, Cedric. Think about it. One mistake out there and you'll start a war. Is that really what you want?"

"I-I can be good enough. Just give me a chance, Father. You know I've always wanted to help in battle. I've always wanted to do something important."

"Yes, I _know_." Goodwin gave his son a look that said he was clearly referring to Cedric's years of attempting to overthrow the castle.

Cedric leaned back in astonishment. He'd stopped trying to get the crown quite a few years back, and couldn't believe his own father to be throwing it in his face again. Mouth agape, eyes clearly flashing hurt, Cedric was a stuttering mess. He hadn't stuttered so badly in a long time thanks to Sofia, but he unraveled right before their eyes, years' work and confidence building regressing in a matter of minutes.

"Chances like that just can't be taken in this situation, Cedric. Would you really like to put Enchancia in danger just to keep your pride? I know this seems humiliating son, but you'll understand one day. It's for the better of the kingdom, and you."

"B-but who will take my p-place? And Sofia's t-training?"

Roland was sitting in his chair at his desk, elbows on the desk, hands clasped together. He appeared to be watching the two, but his eyes were glazed over and empty, as if his mind were in another place.

"Well, this is where I've got plans, my boy." Goodwin gave a small apologetic smile. "Roland sincerely doesn't want to replace you, but he feels it his duty to protect the kingdom. It's your duty too, Cedric. I should've done this a long time ago, but better late than never, I suppose."

Goodwin turned to look out the window, to the chirping birds and dancing butterflies out in the lush gardens. "I have some old friends," the retired sorcerer sighed. "They're good men, all fantastic sorcerers. Back in the day we used to slay dragons and rescue fair maidens together—ah, what a time. They're too elderly by now to actively be any use in a war, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind giving you some much-needed training."

"Father, surely you don't expect me to leave in the middle of a crisis to train with some old men!" Cedric flung his arms out, a panting mess of a man.

"I'm sorry, Cedric." Roland finally seemed to snap out of his trance. "We're not firing you. Goodwin has offered to take your place while you're away. As soon as we hear good news from Goodwin's associates, you are free to come back and resume as royal sorcerer. I promise." The king attempted to muster up a smile.

"You will leave first thing in the morning. I'll have a chariot ready. You should start packing soon, Cedric. In fact, best start now." Goodwin crossed his arms.

"But—"

" _Now,_ Cedric." Goodwin shot his son an irritated and firm look, to which Cedric bit his lip. Half of him was livid, the other half distressed and confused. He left in a storm, rushing down the halls in a fit of mixed emotions. He kept his head down, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, making his way to his tower and climbing the spiraled stairs.

Cedric retreated into his lair, yanking the door closed harshly and startling his raven, Wormwood. The bird gave an angry caw, but the slim sorcerer ignored it. He came to his long desk, piled with papers and ingredients and potions and books. He slammed his fists on the wood, letting out a frustrated scream. In an instant he was flinging glass bottles and beakers throughout the room, ripping papers and smashing books against the stone walls. He kicked his feet and grit his teeth, continuing with his rage until he was subsided on the floor in a sobbing heap.

Cedric stayed like that for over an hour, in a comatose state composed of overwhelmingly mixed emotions. He felt humiliated. He felt betrayed. He felt dejected and despondent.

Eventually a knock sounded at his door. He knew that knock.

"Not… not today, Princess." He managed to mutter, only a slight break in his voice.

"Mr. Cedric? Is something wrong?" her voice was as sweet as ever, but failed to trigger optimism in the man.

"Not today, Princess." He repeated blankly.

Sofia, being the stubborn person she was, refused to leave. She took the key from where she knew he kept it in the gargoyle, opening the door and standing in shock at the scene before her.

The place was a wreck. One of the bookshelves was tipped over, a few books having fallen in the cauldron, which still had a brew in it. The books were dissolving in the concoction, creating a thick goopy substance that bubbled strangely. Papers were ripped up and stepped on, shattered glass littered around the room, potions splattered on the walls and spilling over the floor. Cedric lie in the mess, curled on his side on the floor, back facing her.

"Mr. Cedric, _what happened_?" Sofia gasped, making her way over the strewn belongings to the man, kneeling down before him on the floor. His eyes were bloodshot and droopy, deep bags evident. He looked up at her lamely.

When he failed to respond, Sofia sighed, leaning down and hugging his limp body. "You know I'm always here for you, right? You can always tell me what's going on, Mr. Cedric. I'll never judge you." She said reassuringly. He didn't react, and eventually she figured she'd give him a little time, standing and beginning to clean the room.

Almost half an hour into cleaning and Sofia was sweeping up another pile of glass and other fragments into a neat pile. She'd failed to notice a little cylinder glass beaker on the floor, stepping on it and yelping as she lost her balance. She reached her hand out to catch herself, releasing a pained cry when one of her hands landed on a piece of glass.

In an instant Cedric was on his feet, pulling her up and grasping her wrist, pulling her hand up to inspect it. Concern had taken over his weary features. He led her to the desk. The stool was across the room on a floor, so he wasted no time in lifting her and setting her on the counter. Sofia felt her cheeks heat up at his unusual directness. Perhaps he still looked at her like a little girl—maybe that was why he seemed to treat her like one most of the time.

Then again, she couldn't deny that she could act quite childish often. She still liked to drag him out to the gardens and make flower crowns, or make him picnic with her. She liked coaxing him to dance at balls and attempting to force sweets onto him. Perhaps, she thought, she should start acting a little more grown up. Start subtle, she said to herself. Start with something simple, like his name. Yes, yes, his name. She was always referring to him as _Mr. Cedric_. It was a habit and a form of respect, and she'd been doing it since she was eight years old, but she knew she'd have to stop one day. Might as well stop now.

Cedric rushed to look through the ingredients littering the floor, picking out a few herbs from the mess and setting them next to the princess. He then grabbed her injured hand within his own, facing her palm up and studying the damage. He slipped his wand from his sleeve, using it to carefully pull the glass shards from her flesh. She winced, and he slightly rubber his thumb over her wrist reassuringly.

When he was sure all of the glass was gone, he moved on to crushing the herbs until they were a thick paste. He used a small spell over the paste before gingerly slathering it over Sofia's wound, moving around the room again before returning to wrap her hand. Even after he was finished, he didn't release her hand from his own. He tilted his head as he compared their hands.

"Your hands are so small." He murmured. "How do you grab stuff with these little things?" he held up her hands with a small smile, to which she giggled. Finally he released them, turning to look over the damage he'd done to the room with a sigh. "Your hand should be completely healed within a couple hours." He said.

"Thank you, Cedric." She looked down to her hands. She could still feel the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin.

Cedric turned to look at her strangely. "You… you said my name." He whispered.

"I always say your name, Cedric." She raised an eyebrow at him, but inside she was excited he'd noticed.

"Well yes, but you didn't say 'Mr. Cedric', you just said Cedric." He smiled, perhaps wider than he should have. Certainly it shouldn't have been so important to him, nor should it have made his stomach feel so funny, but it did.

"Oh, well…" Sofia looked down to her lap, picking at her fingers. "Well when I thought about it, I realized calling you 'Mr. Cedric' all the time was quite childish of me…"

Cedric chuckled, a hand moving to his hip. "You are the epitome of childishness, my dear."

"Hey! I am not!" she crossed her arms, sending him a little glare. Cedric laughed.

"You must at least admit you _are_ rather naïve, Princess."

"Hey, we're not even that far apart in age. You're what, 5 years younger than my dad? That makes you 32. So really, you're only 15 years older than me."

"Princess Sofia, 15 years is a _long_ time. Besides, age has nothing to do with maturity."

She sighed, face downcast. "I just don't want you to think of me as a child anymore, Cedric."

"Well what do you want me to think of you, then?" he gave a grin, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Just… think of me as what I am—an adult. A woman."

Cedric frowned.

The sorcerer had never really looked at Sofia as a kid, even when she _was_ one. She was naïve and childish regarding certain things, and yet she'd always had a kind of maturity. She understood emotions well; she had a miraculous amount of discernment. He had never had friends, and perhaps that was why even though she had been a child when they'd met, he still only ever thought of her as a _friend._ His first friend. His only friend. There was no age there, no gender. Only friendship.

She wasn't a daughterly figure to him, nor was she a child, or a Princess. Cedric often had to remind himself that she was, in fact, supposed to be all of those things. She was a young Princess with a bright future that certainly did not in include him. One day he'd have to give her up.

He _had_ noticed her descent into adolescence, though. For the longest time neither gender nor age had registered in his mind—they were just two friendly beings in the universe. And then one day it hit him like a train—Sofia was a _woman._ He'd watched her grow into maturity without fully realizing it.

Still, he was always attempting to push it out of his mind. No, no, _no_.

"I-I know, Princess." He stuttered nervously, turning away. "I-I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to be sorry." She tried to smile at him, but he avoided eye contact.

"No, there really is." He turned in a circle, staring at the mess he had created. "I'm always making mistakes; always messing up. Look at what I've done." He gestured to the piles of ruin throughout the room. "And now I've hurt you, because I can't control myself." He looked back to her bandaged hand.

 _Merlin's Mushrooms._

His father was right. Cedric couldn't control himself well enough. He couldn't put the castle in danger because of him—he couldn't put _Sofia_ in danger. All he did was lose himself in his own world of resentment and anguish, resulting in somebody getting hurt… usually Sofia. And here he was supposed to be the adult.

"Cedric…" Sofia slid from the counter, slowly walking towards him, eyes wide and concerned. "What happened this morning? What made you do this?"

"I'm just overtired, Princess. I should retire for the evening, really. You should go." He hesitated, but eventually managed to tell a half-truth, before turning and heading to the stairs leading down to his personal chambers.

"O-okay… I'll see you tomorrow then, Cedric." Sofia smiled, but her big blue eyes showed uncertainty.

"Yes… see you, Princess."

"Sofia."

"What?"

"If I'm going to be calling you Cedric, you should be calling me Sofia."

"Ah… well then good evening, Sofia."

Sofia grinned, turning and walking out. She decided she'd come the next morning to finish cleaning the mess, since it was best to leave him to rest for the time being. She hummed to herself as she descended the cold cement steps.

Cedric shook himself of his robe, plopping down on his bed. Wormwood flew down, cawing at his master.

"Hello, Wormy." Cedric sighed, slowly laying his aching body back into the mattress. "I suppose I'll have to give in. I'll… I'll have to leave for a while, buddy. I'm sorry. My father will take care of you while I'm gone I'm sure, or Sofia."

Wormwood moved to Cedric's bed, and the man ran his long fingers through the raven's silky feathers. "What would you say if you could speak to me, Wormy?" Cedric let a small smile spread over his lips. "I suppose you'd be much better at scheming than me if you were human. Would you call me a fool, too?"

The bird leaned into his owner's fingers, walking to the man's face and rubbing up against his long nose in a rare moment of affection. Cedric chuckled.

"I know I could probably use some training…" Cedric exhaled deeply. "But will these old men _really_ help me? I've read all the books. I've been in the classes. I know magic, I know the ingredients. I may be a bit of a fool, but can they not see that I _try?_ Can they not see that it's not my magic ability that's the problem, it's _me?_ "

A moment of silence went by. He was beginning to doubt his father's friends' abilities in helping him. Anger and frustration was flooding his mind again. _This isn't going to work._

But he had to do _something_. Nobody liked him. The other castle workers laughed at him. He wanted more than a few elderly dolts could offer.

He _had_ to succeed. He needed to save Enchancia, to prove himself. He needed to keep Sofia safe. This was his chance. _But how?_

He got a glimpse of the book sitting on his small desk in the corner of the room. On its spine was no author, but a few strange symbols. He recognized a pentacle and a few other symbols looked similar, but most others he couldn't place. Cedric had bought it a while ago from a small bookshop in the village, but hadn't paid it much attention. It seemed strange and promised an entertaining read at the time, but he'd set it on the desk and forgot about it.

He slowly sat up, moving to grab the book, opening the yellowed and stained thick pages. On it were sketched of plants and animals he did not recognize, along with strange figures in long robes. Looking further were instructions on using blood in potions and spells.

Cedric's stomach dropped as he realized that he was holding a book on black magic. Such books were illegal—this one must've slipped through somehow.

Cedric didn't stop reading, though. Morbid curiosity and the amount of new information he was gaining kept him going. Sleep begged him to lie back down, but he refused, sitting stiffly on his bed with the book grasped in his shaky hands.

Suddenly he realized that the book often referred to a band of mages residing in the Thallusai Mountains. They were said to be the strongest sorcerers, specially chosen by a divine creator to serve as mediators between worlds and dimensions. Their past work in history was briefly mentioned, although their names remained anonymous.

Cedric felt scared, but inquisitive. These sorcerers, they dabbled in history. They changed the world where they thought they should, stepped in while no one noticed and subtly modified events how they saw fit. Would they help him protect Enchancia, if he asked? Would they teach him things, help him?

Was it worth a shot? The possibility that the book wasn't real was so high, and yet he wanted to believe. He had heard rumors long ago of a band of dark mages, though whenever he would ask about it his father would change the subject.

This _must_ be them. They must reside in the mountains.

Cedric sprang up, moving to pack a few things in a rush. Wormwood cawed unhappily, but Cedric ignored him, moving to change his clothes and gather some simple ingredients and more changes of clean clothes.

"Sorry, Wormy. I have to do this. I have to leave tonight."

As the day succumbed to night, Cedric took what little he had packed, and stealthily headed out of the castle.


	4. Chapter 4

Goodwin arrived early the following morning, greeting the tired king with sympathy and delight. He assured the weary man that all would be fine; Enchancia was safe. A guard was sent sometime around seven to retrieve the sorcerer, and Goodwin stood alongside the king at the entrance of the castle, facing the chariot prepared to take Cedric, waiting to send the gangly sorcerer off.

That was when things had started making turns for the worst.

"My king, the royal sorcerer is not in his chambers." A guard bound up worriedly, bowing briefly.

" _What?!"_ both Goodwin and Roland were instantly on edge, no longer so composed and calm.

"We've searched throughout the tower and castle." Another breathless guard came bounding up. "The sorcerer is nowhere to be found. His workspace is in shambles—there're signs of a possible struggle."

"Oh, mother of— _shit!_ " the king cursed under his breath as he began jogging towards the sorcerer's tower. "Call for more guards. Search the surrounding area thoroughly. Report anything suspicious immediately, we _must_ find him!"

Goodwin took off after Roland, adrenaline pumping through his veins, heart heavy. The retired sorcerer didn't remember the last time he'd moved so fast.

Upon arriving at the tower, the two men made their way up the spiraled stone steps, gasping upon entry into the room. They slowly walked in, stepping over piles of broken glass and other strange fragments.

"Looks like someone tried cleaning up a bit." Roland slowly observed, gesturing to a pile of neatly swept glass and a nearby broom and dustpan. Goodwin nodded slowly, but could not form words. A guard came up the steps from Cedric's personal chambers, stopping briefly to bow before the king.

"Sire, the sorcerer's private space is untouched. It looks as though a possible struggle occurred up here, but there are no signs of forced entry, nor any blood." The guard said.

"I see…" Roland held his chin in his hand, brows furrowing, trying to piece the mystery together. "And how did the guards get in?"

"The door was left slightly ajar, sir."

"I don't understand…" Goodwin cut in from across the room, standing over the cauldron's goopy contents. "Who would have it out for Cedric, though?"

The men wracked their minds. Goodwin began to feel nauseous—the fact that he may never see his son again had begun to slowly creep into his conscience. Cedric was no dashing hero, but he was Goodwin's son nonetheless, born and raised by the old sorcerer. There was love there, naturally, despite their differences and disconnection over the years.

The gray haired man searched around the room, his steps beginning to become less steady. He reached out, grabbing onto objects for support, looking around. He was afraid to find blood, any sign that Cedric could've been bombarded and done away with.

"Could he have… fled?" one of the guards, a younger male with scruffy auburn hair and freckles asked, bright blue eyes staring from Goodwin to Roland.

"It seems more likely, considering Cedric's personality, though that doesn't quite explain the mess." Roland allowed. "I've never seen our royal sorcerer become violent—at least, not _successfully_ aggressive…"

"Could it have been a spell gone awry?"

"Anything's possible." Roland gave an exasperated sigh, covering his face with his hands, running his fingers through his hair. " _Great_ , this is just what we needed. What are we to do now? _Good God,_ what hope have we left? I fear for Enchancia, Goodwin, I do."

"If he fled, he left nothing to explain. No letters, no notes—nothing. My apologies, Sire." An older guard bowed, and Roland only nodded in response.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Cedric was just exiting the village the sun had begun to peak over the mountains, and he began to rush himself, knowing full well that there would be an extensive search for him upon Roland and Goodwin finding out he was missing.

The sorcerer pulled his hood over his head, tightening the robe in attempts to hide his identity. He had changed his clothes with a spell, hoping not to be seen or recognized. For once he was glad that nobody knew his face, otherwise everyone would've known who he was. It was one of the first times he felt happy to be a screw-up.

He knew the journey would take longer considering he was on foot—he could probably make it in three days with only a couple stops to rest.

For a moment Cedric had stopped right as he left the village for the nearby forest, looking back at the people bustling, way out to the castle. He could just make out his tower, looming and bent as it always was. He recognized the wide glass windows of Sofia's room. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, she said she'd curl up by the window and look out at the vast beauty of the night sky, and slowly drift off. Cedric briefly wondered if she was there, looking out at the village, perhaps unknowingly looking at him.

He hadn't left any notes—he was afraid to anger the king and his father. If anything, though, he didn't want to end up hurting Sofia. The princess cared for him, and he knew that, but the depths of his own feelings were beginning to intensify to a point that left him questioning his sanity.

It was _wrong_.

Cedric was a thirty-two year old man who'd grown from a seedling of resent and tactlessness. He was a result of constantly-heightening expectations and hidden rage—the outcome of a home with ever-rising competition among beautiful royals and a set destiny. He was not elegant, he was not faultless, he was not eye-catching. Cedric was awkward and gangly and iniquitous. He had the sharp features fit for a villain and a fundamental nature to match.

Sofia, on the other hand, was a seventeen-year-old princess. Her face was rounder, so much more innocent, more full of life. She was smart, and had the ability to touch everyone she met in ways Cedric hadn't previously thought imaginable. She was the kind of person you read about in fairytales, and here she often spent her time attempting to help _him._ The girl made no sense, really. The way she always tip toed graciously around his workshop while he was attempting to work, humming softly, distracting him.

It was infuriating. It was maddening. The way he longed to hold her in his arms sickened him.

Cedric quickened his pace. He needed to escape. If he gave the princess time now to detach from him, perhaps they could continue living life as it was written out. Maybe he was being selfish—lightening the blow for himself. Cedric knew that he depended on her too much, and the time was fast approaching when she was to be married off, swept from right under him. He couldn't do it, despite how much he told himself he didn't need her, that he'd live without her just as he had before.

A part of him knew that he couldn't do it. Sometimes, when he really thought about it, he began to feel trapped. Either way Cedric looked at it, his life was a mess. He had always yearned to be something big, to do something important. He had aspirations, he had dreams. But deep inside, Cedric had always known the truth. He saw what others thought of him.

* * *

A few hours past noon and Cedric was sure they were looking for him. A few guards on several Pegasus flew by overhead, and each time the sorcerer would press himself hard against a tree for cover. Eventually his steps had quickened to a full-on sprint, and he hoped they wouldn't begin looking his way on foot. He needed to escape Enchancian territory, at least to the outskirts. Cedric knew there were supposed groups of prowlers said to lurk on the outer edge of Enchancia, but he was willing to risk it for hope of becoming a better sorcerer.

Nightfall came slowly, and the guards flying overhead had begun to dwindle. Cedric was three quarters of the way to the border by then, and all the way out there he knew that not many people would be searching for him. Most likely they would skip his current area and focus on the outer edges of the forest, searching for suspicious intruders.

"Merlin's Mushrooms, why didn't I grab a damned Pegasus?" Cedric cursed himself as he continued on his sore feet. He hadn't thought much when he'd left; it was an impulsive action fueled by emotion rather than logic. But he wasn't about to turn around now.

Cedric decided sometime in the middle of the night to get a few hours of sleep, curling up under a large tree, trying his best to make himself blend in with the dark earth and grass beneath him. The ground was damp and cold, and he hadn't a blanket or pillow, but he was so tired that sleep came soon after he'd laid his body down.

* * *

When Cedric awoke it was still dark out, and he was shivering from the cold. He decided to keep moving in order to warm his body up, and eventually decided against sleeping again, at least until midday. He was exhausted, but refused to give up. Holding on to the hope of saving Enchancia and perhaps what little pride he had left, Cedric kept on.

Guards continued in their searching, and a few close calls had led Cedric to casting temporary invisibility spells. He was trying to save his energy, but found it harder and harder to focus as he went along. He was beginning to stop more often, a few times coming across berry bushes and eating a few at a time. He remembered his recent little adventure with Sofia, and the way she'd popped that blueberry into his mouth, always so joyous over such trivial things.

She was the only one he allowed to do such things to him. Not even Cedric's own mother could get him to listen, being as stubborn as he was. Sofia had always had a way to coax him into things though—she always knew how to get him to do what she wanted. Hell, she'd even gotten him to dance with her a couple times.

By dusk, Cedric was over the Enchancian border. The Thallusai mountains weren't far off, and he was beginning to feel triumphant in his journey. If he was fast enough, he could make it before the following nightfall.

After a five hour rest, Cedric forced his aching body up and off again. His feet were throbbing and his mind was quite fuzzy, but he kept on. There were less trees and brush between the mountains and Enchancia, forcing him to use more magic than he would've liked in order to disguise himself.

After noon he was so close he could point out specific trees on the mountainside. He felt a pricking in his skin though—the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Cedric felt paranoia begin creeping up on him, setting him on edge. Every little sound had him jumping, whipping out his wand. He felt silly every time he almost blasted a rabbit or a frog, but he just couldn't help it. Something felt very _off_.

The sun was getting ready to set when Cedric reached the bottom of the main mountain.

He was nervously looking about for some evidence of people living there, but couldn't find even a single path. The trees on the mountain's side were thick and looked like they'd never seen civilization. Cedric knew the Thallusai mountains were said to be inhabitable, with its steep sides and seemingly unpredictable weather. That coupled with the fact that it was too far from civilization to hold a village and yet too close to build a kingdom, and the area was left virtually untouched.

Cedric felt a fool at that moment. What would he do, if there were no secret sorcerers living in the mountains? Hell, even the thought itself was outlandish to the point of ridiculousness. It was improbable in the utmost of ways. The only thing that had kept him going was hope… that, and stubbornness. He didn't know where else to turn.

The sorcerer kicked his aching feet furiously, cursing under his breath. He eventually fell to his knees, disheartened and disillusioned, and slowly watched the sun descend into the earth. Darkness enveloped the land and the moon provided only a gentle glow over the area.

There was _nothing._ Cedric drifted off feeling emptier and more lost than ever.

* * *

A harsh burning sensation forced Cedric awake. The man sat up, hand instinctively moving to touch the seared flesh of his torso. It was pitch black, but he could still make out several figures looming over him, a few chuckles erupting from the shady beings. Cedric immediately flung his wand out from his sleeve, pointing it at the figures, standing to his feet with a wince at the sharp pain the movement caused.

"W-who are you?" he inwardly cursed at his stuttering.

"Hey hey, no need to get all defensive here, buddy." A man walked forward, arms raised in peace. He had a smirk on his face and narrow almond eyes. "We didn't mean to hurt you."

" _No need to be defensive?_ You burned me!" Cedric gingerly moved his hand, looking down to his seared flesh. A hole had been burned through his clothing. It wasn't a wound inflicted by _accident_ , and he knew it. The man before him was clad in light armor, a sword hanging by his hip. As Cedric's eyes adjusted to the dark he saw more armor-clad men around him, some with swords, others with daggers and bows.

"We didn't mean to hurt you—I swear it." The first man smiled. In an instance he had his sword drawn and the blade pressed neatly against Cedric's neck, right under his jaw. "We meant to _kill_ you."

Cedric ducked below and over the blade, leaping back. " _Nihilque illum nocuit!"_ he yelped, a blast erupting from his wand. The man raised his sword, causing the metal to collide with the green flare. It pushed him back a couple feet, but that was it. Cedric panted; he was far too exhausted to deal with a group of soldiers.

Suddenly Cedric had realized that he had initially been _burned_ , not cut. Frantically, he looked around at all of the different men. None of them held fire, which only meant one thing—one of them knew magic.

"Who are you?" Cedric asked warily, wand held at ready. He knew only a few battle spells, and even those were unlikely to be fatal. Enchancia had never required hard battle, and though Cedric had read about many fighting spells, he'd never had the chance to use or even practice them.

"Who are _we?_ Who are _you?"_ the man with his sword drawn, most likely the group leader, hissed.

"C-Cedric the Sensational… royal sorcerer of Enchancia." Cedric spoke.

" _You're_ Enchancia's royal sorcerer?" the man laughed, the others cackling along with a few hollers and sarcastic remarks. "Oh, come on." He finally chuckled, holding his arms out jokingly. "I mean, I knew Enchancia only had one sorcerer, but I thought you'd at least be, you know, intimidating… What are you even doing all the way out here, ' _sensational Cedric'_?"

"It's none of your business." Cedric spat, frustration thick in his voice. He clutched his side harder, looking around for a way out.

"Oh, but it _is_. See, we aren't your run-of-the-mill band of crooks and outlaws." The man raised his sword again, pointing it towards Cedric.

"You're… you're from Izuvell. You're soldiers!" Cedric gasped.

"My name is Bartholomew." The man laughed, clapping with his sword still in hand. He took a step closer, to which Cedric held his wand out in warning. "Oh, come now," Bartholomew stopped. "We can't be civil here?"

"Who burned me?"

"Oh, Cedric. Are you always so demanding?"

"WHO BURNED ME?" Cedric demanded loudly, his voice coming out stronger than he'd expected. Bartholomew's face grew dark. When the soldier didn't respond, Cedric flicked his wand. " _Comburet eum!"_ Cedric sent a single fiery blast Bartholomew's way.

Bartholomew smiled, reaching down to a long, thin pouch strapped around his right leg, pulling out a wand. " _Prohibere ignis!"_ he roared, and the flames died right in their path.

"You-you're a sorcerer!" Cedric breathed, clearly taken aback. Bartholomew chuckled lowly, spinning his wand in his fingers.

" _Suffocabat eum!"_ Bartholomew his Cedric with a spell, and instantly the sorcerer felt his neck beginning to restrict. He gasped for air, but managed to send out a counter attack. Bartholomew blocked it, releasing another blast. Cedric leaped out of the way, one hand grasping his neck and the other his wand.

The other soldiers watched with cool statures and polite smiles, as if they were watching a church gathering.

Cedric pushed past them, and they let him. They knew he wouldn't get far.

The sorcerer ran blindly, but inevitably ripped, slamming into the rocky mountainside with a loud thud. Bartholomew strode over, a smirk on his lips.

"It's a shame, really. I expected more out of Enchancia's royal sorcerer." He sighed, before shrugging. "I suppose it's good luck, though. And here we thought we were simply killing some random vagrant for fun! Who would've thought we'd run into _you_ , of all people?" Bartholomew raised his wand, holding it firmly towards Cedric in his outstretched hand.

" _Ut em interficerent_!" Bartholomew said, and a sizzling flare erupted from his wand. Cedric recoiled. He waited for the pain, teeth grit, fists clenched. He thought of how he'd let his kingdom down—how he'd let Sofia down.

When the blast never hit him, Cedric hesitantly looked up.

Someone had place a shield around him. Cedric reached out, touching the see-through magic of it. It was a strong spell—one that the royal sorcerer wasn't quite familiar with.

"Who are you?"

Cedric looked up to see Bartholomew angrily glaring at a figure standing a few feet off into the woods. The person stepped out of the brush, a wand clutched in their hand. The way they moved was so gentle, gliding along the harsh terrain with a certain grace.

" _Ut em interficerent_!" Bartholomew sent the same blast again, this time towards the new rival.

The figure raised their wand, absorbing the blow. They turned and sent another spell out, one that Cedric was familiar with as an upper level hex. Bartholomew attempted to stop it with his sword, but was sent flying back against a tree.

"Come," the figure stood over Cedric, a strangely shaped hand outstretched for the sorcerer. Cedric slowly reached for it, and was raised to his feet. The person was tall—had to be at least 6'5". They were quite a few inches taller than Cedric, who was exceedingly tall to begin with.

Bartholomew was up again, a roar being released from his mouth as he sent another spell their way, ordering the others to help. The strange figure held tight to Cedric's hand, yanking the fatigued sorcerer along the side of the mountain as guards ran after them and curses were cast. Cedric's mystery savior sent a few more hexes out, effectively slowing down a few guards as they continued on their way.

Eventually they reached a small dent in the mountainside where a low-hanging brugmansia tree stood. Cedric was dragged straight into the tree, yelping as they passed through the leaves, straight into—

—a room…?

Cedric looked around in awe at the large, chilly space. It looked something akin to a dark throne room, with a chandelier and long crimson rug. A tiger pelt hung from the wall opposite them. Looking back, Cedric noted that the entrance was a portal. Perhaps that was why hardly anyone was able to find the place.

The person that had rescued Cedric began walking through the room, headed towards a small bookshelf in the corner. They moved strangely—very hunky and too smooth to be human. If Cedric were to guess, he'd say the person had a hunched back or some other deformity. Then again, they'd moved very fast just a minute ago. Nothing made sense.

"Who are you?" Cedric asked, his voice breaking the estranged silence. "Why did you help me?"

"My name is Theophilus." They said, turning to briefly look at Cedric. "I've noticed the brutes hanging around the area for quite some time—been keeping an eye on them. Heard the ruckus… didn't want to watch an innocent man get killed for nothing."

"Where are we?" Cedric moved closer to the strange cloaked man as he fingered through the books on the shelf, searching for a specific one.

"My lair, of course." Theophilus chuckled in his deep voice. He finally pulled a book from one of the lower shelves. Cedric felt a shiver go up his spine as he read the title— _Enchancian Society._ From what the royal sorcerer knew, there _were_ no books specifically about Enchancian civilization, besides the personal few Roland II had in his own chambers. Most royals believed that keeping exact notes on all aspects of their kingdom's culture, battle tactics, political nature, etcetera, could very easily lead to an empire's speedy demise if falling in the wrong hands.

As Cedric limped closer, hand still grasping his burned torso, he read the titles scribbled on the spines of the books. Some were so old and worn they looked ready to ease into ash. Others were fairly new, and of better quality. The books were no more than hand-written journals—all of which mentioned some specific kingdom or empire in time. Cedric felt afraid, looking over the assorted labels, recognizing many of the names. Some of them were monarchies long having been overthrown, others fresher domains yet to be known worldwide.

"You said you are from Enchancia, yes?" Theophilus pointed a long, bulky finger at the book. Cedric neared the stranger, looking to the page, where the familiar castle was neatly sketched out. He recognized his tower, and even an older section of a building that had recently been torn down and replaced with a storage room.

"Yes, but how…?" Cedric's voice fell silent as he watched Theophilus sift through the pages, identifying several of Enchancia's past kings, queens, sorcerers, and other important events and people in the kingdom's history. Cursive writing seemed to describe in detail many aspects of these figures.

"What brings you here, Cedric? Why were you all the way out here, unprotected and alone?" Theophilus put the book under his arm, facing the royal sorcerer, gesturing for the lanky male to lift his hand from his wound. Cedric hesitantly obliged, and Theophilus studied the burn with his hooded features.

"My kingdom is… in danger, you see."

"Mm-hm."

"And, well, I-I'm not the best sorcerer, so I came out searching… because I heard that there were some very powerful mages in the mountains here."

"Mages in the mountains?" Theophilus tilted his head up to stare at Cedric, and all the sorcerer could see the slight glint of light reflecting from two eyes. Cedric felt unease at this—as if he were being looked through, or perhaps his psyche being studied.

"Yes," Cedric sighed, "I know it sounds silly, but Enchancia's only hope resides within sorcery… _strong_ sorcery. I can't let them down; I need training. But they wanted me to train with some—some old men! What good would _that_ do?" Cedric threw his arms up in exasperation, groaning in annoyance as he did so.

"I see…" Theophilus looked back down to Cedric's wound. Finally he reached up, pulling his strangely shaped hands over Cedric's flesh. The sorcerer winced as his wound throbbed at the contact, but the pain slowly began to fade. Theophilus went on, "So, you're looking for these mages to teach you, then?"

"Well, either teach me, or help… I've heard they help with certain events like that. Big events and the like, you know?"

"Yes, I know." Theophilus pulled his hands away, standing at his full height again. Cedric looked down to his wound, only to be met with healthy flesh.

But… that was _impossible._ No wand had been used, no spell had been said, no potions or pastes had been smeared—it was unviable. "H-how did you—?"

"In that case, I suppose you've come to the right place, Cedric." Theophilus smiled softly, allowing his hood to fall back onto his shoulders. Cedric looked up from his healed torso, only for his eyes to be met with the face of a dog.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I just wanted to thank you again for the reviews! This chapter will contain mostly explaining and conversing, as there is a lot I need to establish in this story, but more action is sure to come in the next chapter or two!_

 _Also, I was thinking of changing this story's name to "Wrong Side of Heaven," after the song of the same name by Five Finger Death Punch, as the song was what gave me the idea for this story. Does that sound good? In addition, I am working on a new cover image for the story, as I don't like the current one. It will have both Cedric and Theophilus featured in the new cover! :)_

* * *

Cedric fell back with a gasp, looking up to the cloaked canine before him. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement—he was shocked, horrified, and bewildered beyond all means. The royal sorcerer's mouth fell agape, and he attempted to form words, but found himself unable. Theophilus chuckled softly, tilting his head back down to look once more at the book in his grasp. He flipped through the pages absentmindedly.

Finally, Cedric composed. He stood from where he had flung himself on the floor, approaching the canine-headed wizard cautiously. The fur was most certainly real, and Cedric found himself wanting to reach out and touch it, but refrained from doing so. Upon closer inspection, the dog's nose was genuine, and his tongue flicked out quite a few times to freshly wet it. Cedric inquired, "A-are you hexed?"

"No—no curse at work here." Theophilus murmured inattentively. "Don't be fooled by appearances… I am human. It's simply my preferable form, see."

"You prefer to be a dog over a human? But why?" Cedric crossed his arms, deciding to sit on the floor, back leaning against the cream-colored wall.

"When you've seen the same face in the mirror for so many decades as I, it gets old. Furthermore, the body tends to rot, and frankly, I am not so comfortable with the means to acquiring fresh flesh as many of my colleagues." Theophilus sighed, finally having flipped through the entirety of the book, placing it back in its proper place on the shelf.

"So you use an illusion to make yourself appear as a dog? Aren't there ways to heal your original body—some kind of spells or potions?"

"It's not so simple. There _are_ several options when it comes to keeping the body alive… or acquiring a new body, of course. It is a drawn-out process, though, and most would find the procedure immoral. However, creating an illusion such as I do leaves the host with less energy to be exerted into spells."

"Merlin's Mushrooms… I-I have so many questions…" Cedric got up and followed Theophilus down a corridor as he was gestured, and they arrived soon enough to what appeared to be a kitchen. Cedric was offered food, and after having eaten only berries and other small things found throughout the forest, the sorcerer realized just how hungry he really was. He quickly wolfed down various meats and assorted foods, and Theophilus sat patiently waiting for the other to finish, seemingly delighted.

Cedric had countless questions running through his head, and though he wanted to begin asking immediately, his stomach would not allow it. Theophilus looked humored, doglike head resting on a misshapen hand as he sat at the marbled kitchen counter. Cedric at first wondered why Theophilus didn't smell like rotting flesh, considering the man was more or less a walking corpse under the façade of a canine, but then realized that there was most likely some sort of potion or spell to make the odor fade.

Eventually Cedric's stomach fell silent, and he sad back in a satisfied state. Theophilus allowed the sorcerer to rest a minute, before standing and once again gesturing to be followed. Cedric was led down the dimly lit halls once more, eventually to a room vastly larger than his own personal chambers in Enchancia. There was a deep crimson rug and veiled bed made of a darkly stained wood. A few books littered a nearby mahogany desk, accompanied by an unlit candle.

Cedric was astonished to see that there were no windows, but one whole wall was enchanted, making it see-through. You could see straight through the mountain that the castle-like quarters resided inside, all the way out over and beyond the forests. A few of Bartholomew's men were wondering around furiously, most likely still searching for Cedric.

"My apologies," Theophilus approached the candle on the desk. "We have no other means of lighting this." He blew onto the candle, a small flame falling from his lips and lighting the wick.

"How are you able to do wandless magic, Theophilus?" Cedric watched curiously, hands itching to do the same magic he had witnessed throughout the night.

"It's an old craft by now." Theophilus moved to the end of the bed, plopping himself down. His thick cloak fell aside, and he stretched long, lanky canine-like legs, the paws of his feet spreading out. The mage's legs were more doglike, with round protruding knees and large paws. His hands, however, were more humanlike—fit with opposable thumbs and all. "For years," Theophilus went on after a good yawn, "humans have used wands in order to channel their own magical powers. It's easier that way, you see—you get a more centralized and multifaceted result. Conversely, people soon realized that they were _dependent_ on their wands. They became conscious of the fact that they couldn't do any magic without one. Doing wandless magic, however, was considered near impossible for several centuries. That was, until a man of long ago from the fallen kingdom of Locuria began delving into the art."

Cedric was familiar with the name. He had been taught briefly of an old sovereignty centuries old under the same name, although it had been taken over by its neighboring empires, of whom had been under a pact. The lone survivor of the sudden massacre, a young prince of Locuria, had spent the next following years of his life in a resentful rage, practicing his magic day and night until it was powerful enough for him to single-handedly infiltrate and destroy all of the kingdoms involved in his owns demise. A few things didn't make sense, however.

"But Theophilus, I've heard that story before. They tell it to children as a lesson against going power hungry and how powerful magic can truly be. But the prince used a wand."

"Yes. The widespread population was purposely led to believe a wand was used—he was overcome by revenge, but had enough common sense left to know that wandless magic was dangerous and overall should not be used by just anyone."

"Is he here? Is he one of you?"

"No. He died long ago." Theophilus picked at his sharp teeth idly. "How did you find out about us, anyhow?"

"I had a book briefly mentioning the mages here… although in it, it claimed that you were specially chosen by some divine being or something." Cedric felt around himself for the book, before realizing that he had forgotten it in his chambers upon his blind, brash hurry from the castle.

"Yes. We are a group chosen specifically to watch over and guide humanity… change history when needed, keep people on the right path and the like. The prince from Locuria—Valerius was his name—was one of the first chosen. He showed much promise, although you could tell he had some deep-rooted internal crises. We mainly used wands until he'd come up with the wandless techniques."

"How did he die? And… well, how old are you?" Cedric was unsure if he should be asking, for he felt as if it was not in his place, but he asked anyway. The unending questions were eating at him from the inside out.

"I am the newest to the group, actually. I only knew Valerius for less than a century before he was killed in the siege of Kings Hill. That was three-hundred years ago, give or take." Theophilus yawned again, and Cedric followed suit. Finally, the canine went on, "It's dark still, and you're weary from your traveling. Get some sleep, and we can speak again in the morning."

Theophilus stood, making his way to the door. Cedric stepped towards the bed, sitting down gingerly. Instantly he felt his sore body demanding rest, and crawled under the silk covers, laying his head upon the feather pillows. They smelt strange, like some unfamiliar herbs or spices, but he was too tired to think about it.

"Best settle down, Cedric the sorcerer." Theophilus murmured, blowing out the candle on his way out. "You've got a long road ahead of you."

* * *

When Cedric awoke it was well past noon, and his body felt much less achy from sleeping in a soft bed instead of the hard ground. The sorcerer stood, stretching out his back until he heard a few loud cracks. He ran a hand through his two-toned hair, using a spell to clean his clothes. He finally changed the disguise to his usual purple robe and yellow bow. When Cedric finally exited his room, he was able to make his way to the kitchen by memory of the night before. He ate briefly, before walking off to find a bathroom.

The place seemed to be empty, and for a little Cedric began to wonder if his meeting the dog-headed mage the night before was all a dream. The royal sorcerer wandered around a bit, eventually coming across what looked to be an old ballroom. It appeared to be unused—in fact, it looked like a ball had never even been held there. The floor was without a single scratch, shiny and golden-yellow, with white wooden trim surrounding the outer edges of the walls. The walls themselves were a dark oakey color, with paintings of vines and passion flowers sprawled about. Large white columns were spread throughout the room. White marble steps led up to a vacant balcony and a couple dusty fitting rooms.

Cedric's thoughts began to wander. He had never been one for parties, but Sofia liked them. She was always dragging him to balls and the like, always managing to find a way into coaxing him to eat some sweet food or dance with her. At her birthday ball every year she always asked him to be her first dance of the night, and though it was humiliating and daunting, he did it for her.

The sorcerer's shoulders slumped, and he moved on to the white railing of the steps, gently moving his fingers over the dainty vine-like rails. He pulled his hand back and stared at the dust sadly. "Sofia would love this place." He murmured disconsolately. His heart ached for her. Just to see her smile again, he'd give anything.

"Who?" Cedric jumped when Theophilus's voice rang out, and the sorcerer turned to see the cloaked figure leaning against the large door frame of the entrance.

"O-oh, n-nobody…" Cedric quickly wiped the dust from his hand and felt his face heating up.

"No need to be embarrassed." Theophilus shrugged. "It's not like having a lover is so uncommon."

"N-no! She's not… it's not like that." Cedric turned away, crossing his arms and attempting to hide his hot face. "We're just friends."

"But you wish for more?" Theophilus made his way out to the sorcerer, leaving faint paw prints on the dusty floor. His snout stuck out from the cloak, as well as his bright red-yellow eyes. The canine had an understanding, almost fatherly smile over his relaxed features. It made the purple-clad sorcerer feel a tad bit better.

"Well, I…" Cedric found it hard to speak—he'd held his conflicting emotions in for so long. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't… but it isn't proper." He covered his face with his hands, letting out a ragged sigh.

"She is of lower status than you?" the dog looked genuinely confused, his sharp ears pricking attentively. "Is she not a sorceress?"

"No, it's not… can we just—can we not talk about this?"

"My apologies, I didn't mean to intrude." Theophilus bowed his head. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, I was keeping an eye on the ruffians out there."

"You mean the Izuvellian soldiers?"

"Yes." Theophilus looked displeased—perhaps annoyed. "I know now why they are there. Bartholomew is the worst of the sorcerers the Izuvell kingdom has, as far as brutality goes. They must've purposely sent him to lead the troops over your kingdom's borders in order to provoke Enchancia into announcing war. It's a dirty trick, but it works."

"I need to train, Theophilus. I need to stop him." Cedric made direct eye contact with the canine, pleading.

"I see…" Theophilus turned, reddish-black cloak trailing slightly behind him as he moved strangely towards the door. Cedric followed suit. "If you so desire, I suppose. You went through enough trouble to get here, and I sense no ill intentions in your conscience. I do need to introduce you to the others first though."

"Why are you the only one here?"

"The others are at various areas all over the place… we have quite a few bases set up throughout the entirety of the world. This is our main headquarters. I stayed behind to watch the Izuvell soldiers—and it's a good thing I did, I see, otherwise you'd of been dead."

The two walked in silence for a while, Cedric soaking in the information. He felt momentarily thankful that the soldiers were out there, or else he knew he wouldn't have ever found the castle hidden within the mountains.

They eventually made their way to the castle's library, where there were an abundance of books, mostly of which Cedric found were permanently banished from Enchancia, and most all other kingdoms for that matter. A few of the books were bound in various animal and human skins, a couple written in blood and many depicting gory scenes and practices. A few of the books were tamer, with normal magic and spells, while others were taboo and gross to the point of making the royal sorcerer feel sick.

Black magic was illegal in all parts of the world excluding the few overrun by crime and poverty, and for good reasons. People would never be able to sleep soundly if such books and practices were legal, for it was obvious that they were made to be used with ill intent, and would not be used by people with good intent. It made Cedric wonder about the mages he was dealing with. He felt his stomach twist at the thought of meeting the others.

Theophilus was busy searching throughout the library for specific books, picking out several and piling them on a nearby thick wooden table. He then moved on to look for more. Cedric read the titles of some of the books—such things as _Black Magic for Starters_ and _Equivalent Exchange: A guide to Magical Transformation, Creation, and Combination._ Cedric guessed the books were for him.

"Theophilus," Cedric called with worry on his brow, "you claim to intervene for good cause, but you use dark magic to do so. Doesn't that contradict?"

Theophilus's muffled voice sounded from behind a book held in his mouth. The canine had his arms full of books and was walking wobbly. Cedric quickly stood to help the mage, taking the book from the dog's mouth and cringing when he realized it was dripping with saliva. Theophilus thanked the sorcerer, tongue flicking out to lick at his snout. He plopped the mountain of books down on the table with a huff.

"Ah, as I was trying to say," Theophilus shook his head like a wet dog, "think of it like a yin yang. You've got to have a balance. We use dark magic, but we use it for good. While our means may be of manipulation and may lead to harm those involved, we are sworn by motives of moral intent."

"But what gives _you_ the right to use this type of magic over others? Why are you above the law? And who picks you—who watches over you to keep you from becoming corrupt?" Cedric momentarily wanted to apologize for his amount of prodding questions, but held his tongue for favor of receiving a response.

"We are chosen by higher beings." Theophilus said idly as he began organizing the books into seemingly random piles. "Or a higher _being;_ whichever you prefer. It's all the same, I suppose. And as I said, we are sworn by a contract of sorts. It comes with certain rules and conditions of its own—laws, if you will. If one of us becomes fraudulent our bond is broken and we are discharged from duty, so to speak."

"Why don't these "higher beings" do all of this work themselves? I don't quite follow." Cedric crossed his arms, waiting for Theophilus to finish with his organizing. So far there were four separate piles of books laid out over the carpeted floor.

"They don't interfere with the world, oddly enough." Theophilus paused momentarily, eyes darting about. Cedric was unclear whether or not the mage was thinking of what he'd just said or simply double-checking his book arrangements. "If we fail to help in any given war or worldly issue, that's it. We don't get help. We fail, period, and the whole world must deal with our mistake."

Cedric remained quiet, thinking. Another ten minutes passed and finally Theophilus stood, looking satisfied with the seven neat piles of books along the floor. He gestured to the piles, "Over the next week, Cedric, you will read a stack a day. After that, we will begin your hands-on practice."

"B-but what if I don't _have_ a week?" Cedric exclaimed. "Couldn't _you_ just take care of the problems with Izuvell for me at this pace?"

"If I do everything for you you'll never have a chance to be the hero of your own story, Cedric!" Theophilus chuckled as he began making his way towards the hall. "Besides, you want to impress that 'Sofia,' don't you?" with a wink, the canine was gone, leaving the royal sorcerer alone. Cedric let out a frustrated sigh, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation before finally picking up the first book in the first stack.

* * *

Theophilus made his way through the winding halls once again, leaving the strange new sorcerer alone in the library. All outer edges of the castle were see-through so as to let those inside view the outer world, and so the mage had noticed Cedric from the moment the sorcerer had come bounding up from the forest the day before.

Now, while Theophilus was rather desensitized after years of experiencing war, death, and the like, he just _had_ to interfere, despite telling himself not to for fear of their HQ eventually being found out. He still had a bit of a conscience within him, often times making him want to impede on nature's ways. Something about Cedric had seemed fairly innocent, and though the sorcerer was perhaps a bit foolish and brash, there was hope of importance there.

Lately things hadn't been so good for the group of mages in the mountain castle—after Valerius had fallen in the siege long ago, one by one they had begun to dwindle, the most recent being their historian. The sorceress, a very old and wise woman of strength and knowledge who had kept track of all kingdoms and territories known throughout time, had disappeared while off studying a newer empire known as Etheaniel. The remaining seven of them searched for her in vain for quite a few wasted years before finally given up.

It left their books direly needing to be updated—a task of which Theophilus had eventually volunteered to do—and their knowledge of the world lacking substantially. They were hindered in many fields, and Theophilus had stayed behind to keep an eye on the Izuvellian soldiers snooping around as well as catch up on all of their current documented historic knowledge. When Cedric had come in claiming to be from the kingdom of Enchancia, then, the canine immediately went on to read about the place. He had vague knowledge of the area, but had only been there a few times and knew merely their current king's name (Roland II) and their basic laws and regards to human rights.

Theophilus sighed.

Their work was tireless and eternal. There was no end, there was only future. The world events having to be tweaked and little details having to be recorded would never end, and the dark mage knew this. The world would exist for millions of years to come, and as long as it did, the group would always be needed in order to keep things going smoother. They only ever really took action upon the possibility of world war or a single earthly ruler taking over, but nonetheless, the prospects were infinite.

It was true that many smaller wars and battles were not interfered with by them. Most times they didn't impede on a kingdom's fall, simply because it was considered more or less "nature". Humans were animals just as any other living creature, and thus some weaker packs were taken down, others growing wide over many lands with time.

Because of this, Theophilus was technically not supposed to meddle with the falling or survival of Enchancia. The kingdom was only another horde of living things, in the same fight for survival as everyone else. For him to favor one over the other would be considered distasteful and dissolute. He was perhaps naïve in this sense, acting more upon his own sentiment than logic. For this reason he would allow Cedric to do the work for himself—at least allow the royal sorcerer some form of a chance in the matter.

However, they were not supposed to bring merely _anyone_ into their world. The few they had ever allowed into the castle or to train in their ways were more than worthy, had contributed greatly to the world already, and were direly needed in order to keep general peace. Cedric was none of those things. This was another mistake of Theophilus, though he personally chose to ignore it.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he told himself. They were in a rut, and Cedric showed determination enough to just about verify his potential. The royal sorcerer could prove to be useful eventually.


	7. Chapter 7

Sofia awoke to the sound of frantic soldiers' feet thumping hard against the marble floor outside her bedroom. She had at first tried to ignore it and go straight back to bed, before reality and common sense came flooding back and she realized something must be wrong. Sitting up, the princess listened carefully to the sound of guards' muffled voices ringing throughout the foyer, and more stomping.

The young princess quickly leapt from her bed, hurrying to slip on a dress and brush her hair. The silence she awoke to every morning had been hard to wake up to after Clover and most of her other animal friends had passed. New had come and gone since then, but Sofia just couldn't get as close as she had to the others. It was a fulfilling and long relationship she held with her furry rabbit friend, and even as he grew older and arthritic he remained as full of life as he always had. When the old rabbit began to stop eating, Sofia realized that his time was almost up. The young princess had brought her little furry friend to Cedric in hopes of receiving help, but the sorcerer had no spells to cure old age. The best Cedric could do was ease the pain on Clover's little body.

Sofia was holding him when he passed. She sobbed, but had no other choice than to let go. The rabbit assured her that such was life, and it was his time, but even that did little to soothe her aching heart. She felt him pass. His body grew cold and hard as rigor mortis eventually set in. He began to feel somewhat like cool clay, empty and inert. Cedric did his best to alleviate the princess's pain, to which she was thankful for, but it was little help.

Sofia finally slipped on her shoes, opening her door a crack to peak out. She was taken aback to find soldiers guarding her door on either side. They jerked upon her movement, before bowing and continuing their hard stances.

"What's going on?" Sofia asked, opening her door fully. She watched four guards run hurriedly down the halls straight past her, and grew more worried. The two guards looked at each other, unsure if they would be in the right place to tell her.

"No worries, your majesty." One of them finally spoke. "We have been ordered by King Roland II to guard your door."

"Why?" she stepped out into the hall, and the guards looked uncomfortable.

"The royal sorcerer has gone missing—possible foul play, your highness."

"W- _what_?" Sofia gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Immediately she took off down the hall, ignoring the guards' protests, headed towards her father's study room. She turned a corner, colliding with another small group of guards, sending her to the floor.

"Ah—Princess! My apolo—" the solider she'd bumped into attempted to apologize, but Sofia ignored him, springing to her feet and sprinting off. The guards watched in confusion and worry.

Sofia burst into her father's study quarters, only to find it empty. With tears pricking at her eyes, she took off running again, heading towards Cedric's tower. Sofia couldn't help the feeling in the pit of her stomach as she saw a group of guards headed in the same direction. It couldn't be. _It just couldn't be._ Cedric _had_ to be fine. Sofia ran faster.

Roland II and Goodwin were just exiting the tower, both of their faces troubled and anxious. Sofia ran right up into her father's chest, a sob escaping her mouth as she looked up at him. Roland's face twisted in agony, and he hugged her hard.

"It's not true," Sofia cried, "It can't be true!"

"Shh, Sofia. We're not sure yet. For all we know it could be a—a misunderstanding." His voice betrayed him. The odds were against them. Goodwin looked about ready to break down.

"B-but— _who_? Who would want to harm Cedric?" Sofia looked up, watching the guards and various other castle workers entering and exiting the tower in a hurry.

"I don't know, darling." Roland gingerly grabbed Sofia's face, wiping away her tears. "But I promise we'll find him, okay? I know Cedric was your friend, and Goodwin's son, and our royal sorcerer… we'll find him. We'll find him." He repeated emptily.

"Or what's _left_ of him." Goodwin sighed. He ran his hands through his beard and rubbed his chin wearily, looking at the ground. The man stood slumped over and not so confident as usual, shaking his head. "However will I tell my wife? What do I say? _'Good evening, sweetie. By the way, our only son is missing, possibly dead—'_?"

"No—Goodwin, no." Roland interrupted, waving his hands and getting the man's attention. Roland secretively motioned towards Sofia standing tearfully beside him, hoping Goodwin understood the gesture. The king knew that Sofia couldn't handle hearing such things, and though he personally admitted he felt more worried for the kingdom's safety than Cedric's, he still didn't want his daughter in distress. "We'll find him, Goodwin. We'll find Cedric. _Right?_ "

"Ah—y-yes… we should get searching immediately." Goodwin finally caught on. He had been too enveloped in his own emotions he'd forgotten about the young princess weeping before him. He knew that she was close to Cedric. In fact, Sofia was one of the only things Goodwin could usually get his son to talk about cheerfully.

The two sorcerers had never gotten along—Goodwin was a judgmental pushover of a father and Cedric was an introverted, pusillanimous son. The two just didn't mix, leading to many years full of blame and accusations. That being said, Cedric was still Goodwin's son nonetheless, and he'd made many improvements since Sofia's arrival at the castle. Goodwin had a lot to thank the young woman for, if he was to be honest to himself. Perhaps she had saved Cedric.

Roland moved to face Sofia, whose face was still running with tears. The king grabbed her shoulders firmly, smiling down at her. "Sofia, I know this is hard for you, but we need to be strong, okay? These things happen, and we'll get through it. We'll find Cedric, and we'll be okay. But please understand that I must put the castle on lockdown for a while—no one will be allowed to enter or leave, including you. I don't want you leaving the castle, Sofia. I refuse to let any danger befall my family."

"But, Dad—I-I have to look for him—!"

" _No_ , Sofia. I will have guards scour the surrounding area. I need you to stay safe and sound for me so that I can properly think… I have to decide what to make of all this. I won't be able to focus knowing you're in danger." Roland's eyes gave away just how drained he was, and Sofia couldn't help the twinge of guilt she felt at this. Slowly, the princess nodded her head. She wiped her face on the backs of her hands, making an effort to compose herself.

"Thank you, dear." Roland gave Sofia another hug, before stopping a few guards heading away from the castle. "You three, escort Princess Sofia to the kitchen area to eat, and then to her room."

"Yes, your majesty." The guards bowed, turning to the princess. Sofia slowly began walking away, the soldiers following obediently on either side of her.

"Men!" Roland turned to the scurrying guards around him as Sofia went inside, voice raised. "Get ready to go on a strict lockdown! And I want the pegasi ready to go immediately—we have a sorcerer to find!"

* * *

When Sofia arrived at the dining room table, she was a shaking mess. Her stomach was tied in knots, and her eyes were wide and blank. Sofia's 18-year-old step-siblings, twins Amber and James, gasped upon seeing her. Miranda immediately put her fork on her plate of food, rushing to her daughter's side. Sofia embraced her mother, sobs escaping her mouth.

"Sofia—Sofia, darling, what's wrong?" Miranda felt anxiety creeping up on her; the last time she'd seen Sofia so distressed was when the girl's pet rabbit had passed away. Roland had yet to show up for breakfast, further worrying the queen. Lately he had been stressed by the kingdom of Izuvell she knew, but they hadn't had much time to talk about anything. She'd hardly even seen him for the past few weeks.

"C-Ced-dric…" Sofia wept.

"Cedric? What happened with Cedric?" Miranda felt a lump forming in her throat. She knew her daughter wouldn't be so upset if it wasn't something big.

James and Amber stood from their seats, moving to surround Sofia on either side of her. James was dressed in his knightly underclothes, Amber in another one of her stunning quality dresses. The twins had grown to look like the definition of royalty, James with his broad chest and masculine face, and Amber with the perfect swing in her hips and curly blonde locks framing a beautiful porcelain face. Sofia was different, with her chocolate tresses and big cerulean eyes. The young woman had her own elegance, and a pure kind-hearted nature that the twins lacked.

"H-he's g-gone!" Sofia hid her face deep in her mother's dress.

"Cedric's _gone_?" Amber raised a brow. Though she was worried for her sister, Amber still hadn't gotten over Sofia's strange infatuation with the sorcerer. Cedric had always been wicked and lame, cynical in the utmost of ways. He was a loner who seemed to go back and forth between high and low emotions. To think that anyone, especially Sofia, could be so attached to him seemed unreal.

"Sofia, calm down, honey. Tell us what happened; where is Cedric?" Miranda held her daughter's face in her hands, her voice soothing the bawling young princess. Sofia did her best to stead her voice and explain the situation—that Cedric was missing and possibly even dead.

"Hey, hey, Sof!" James rubbed her back quietly. "For all we know he could be off picking ingredients, right? Or he could've accidentally teleported himself somewhere far away. He's probably fine, sis."

"James is right Sofia," Amber said, "I mean who would want to kill _Cedric_ , anyway? It's not like he's a threat to anyone."

"Well, he was… he was acting weird yesterday. A-and I ignored it… what if it's my fault? I could've helped him!" Sofia had stopped crying so hard, her brain trying to think more logically.

She hadn't thought to ask what evidence of a struggle the guards had been referring to. As far as she knew, Cedric had caused the huge mess in his lair (although he could've been lying, of course). She realized that the Cedric she'd talked to the day before could've always been some kind of double or person using an illusion, and the thought sickened her. It had looked like Cedric, and sounded like him, and felt like him—but was it actually _him_? Did he really create that mess in some fit of anger or a potion gone wrong, or did someone else do it?

The possibilities were endless. Cedric wasn't usually a violent person, as far as Sofia knew. He liked to talk big, sure, but she had never seen him actually get destructive before. In fact, he tended to be very gentle with her. Even when she'd brought Clover's dying form to the sorcerer for help, Cedric was tender and soothing towards the rabbit, despite always claiming to hate the "gluttonous hairball," as he often would call the grey and white bunny.

But if it _had_ been someone else the night before, and Cedric hadn't really trashed his own workshop—well, _why?_ Cedric wasn't a likeable guy, but he wasn't one worth murdering, either. The sorcerer posed more of a pathetic laugh than a threat. The only thing Sofia could think was that perhaps someone from the Izuvellian kingdom had been sent to slay Enchancia's royal sorcerer without knowledge of Cedric's nonthreatening nature.

"Sofia, it's not your fault." Miranda snapped the princess out of her thoughts. "I'm sure he's fine, honey, like James said. Why don't you get something to eat and then get some rest? It could do you some good."

Sofia wasn't hungry.

Realizing that her family didn't understand her fear for Cedric's well-being, the princess politely refused breakfast, instead heading to her room upstairs. The guards Roland had ordered followed suit, making sure she returned safely. The original soldiers who had been set to protect her room were still there, standing stiffly on either side of the bedroom door, and look relieved upon her return. The young woman entered her room, shutting the door quietly. She stood in the middle of her room for a while, staring off blankly. Feelings swarmed throughout her body at a rate she was unfamiliar with.

Cedric was her friend.

But what was this _feeling?_

Sofia felt as if every bit of liveliness within her was slowly being drained—as if somehow, Cedric had taken it with him wherever he'd gone. Even after Clover's passing, although the rabbit had left with a piece of her in tow, she hadn't felt _this_ empty. It was as if the whole world had stopped spinning. The oxygen filling her lungs felt stale; the blood flowing to and from her heart, circulating through her young veins, felt sour.

Sofia knew losing a friend was hard—she'd lost several friends in just the last few years. But Cedric was different. Cedric was more than a friend, Sofia thought—he was _everything._

Every since she had come to live at the castle almost a decade ago, Sofia had found a kind of fondness for Cedric. He was mean and sarcastic, often times pushing her away when she attempted to cling to him and brushing her off every time they saw each other in the halls or gardens. Perhaps it was a little schoolgirl crush—Sofia looked up to him, and found magic to be amazing. In the village she'd never been able to see magic up close before, and suddenly Cedric was right in front of her, a real life sorcerer who could create stars and rose petals and rain clouds out of thin air. Although others saw the man's many flaws, back then Sofia had been oblivious to them, instead mesmerized by what he was capable of producing with the flick of a wand.

Eventually as she grew older, Sofia had begun to realize what people saw of the sorcerer. But by then she had grown so close to him, so attached to the grumpy bumbling man everyone else laughed at, that her infatuation remained fully intact. Cedric became increasingly used to her after a few years as well, eventually to where they would have sarcastic conversations and playfully tease each other.

Cedric had never opened up to anyone his own age, and perhaps if Sofia had been an adult upon their initial meeting, he most likely wouldn't have been as comfortable around her. As Cedric became more and more used to Sofia as a child, he perhaps hadn't taken into account that she was growing. And, by the time she was right on the cusp of womanhood, Sofia had already broken through most of the man's thick walls. He was attached. She had him trapped right in the palm of her hands just before he could realize she was a maturing and run away like the coward he was.

And now… well, what were they?

Sofia immediately wanted so say that they were friends, but somehow that felt wrong. Just the other day in the meadow, they'd been wrestling and laughing and for a moment there she was leaning in and Cedric had looked about to—

Sofia moved over to her window, sitting on the cushioned sill.

She knew she loved him. She'd known for a few years, really, but it was something she always pushed to the back of her mind. Theoretically, it was wrong. The age gap was rather big, and though it wasn't _too_ uncommon to see marriages between two people a decade or more apart, Cedric was also not of royal blood.

And even then, he was _Cedric_ … infamous throughout the castle for being a blundering fool, generally disliked by even the mannered king Roland II himself. Surely the two would make a mess of the already unstable kingdom of Enchancia.

Sofia curled up next to the window, looking out beyond the castle gardens all the way out towards the village. She let her fingers rest upon the glass, still cool and slightly wet with morning perspiration.

"Oh Cedric, where are you?"

* * *

After Sofia had retired to her room again, still sniffling a bit and grasping at her dress emptily, Miranda did her best to make sure the twins would remain calm, and then left the dining room. The queen worriedly made her way towards her husband's study room, hoping he was in. More guards had begun to flood throughout the castle, making her concern grow. She'd known things were escalating, sure, but it had just begun to dawn on her how serious things actually were.

Miranda opened the door slowly, peeking in. Roland was sitting at his desk, head held in his heads, elbows on the desk. The queen felt her heart ache—how hadn't she noticed how stressed he was? She entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Roland heard her soft steps upon the marble floor and looked up, features softening towards his wife.

"Miranda, darling, what's the matter?" he stood, holding his arms out to the queen. She embraced him, and for a second stayed there, head resting against his chest.

"Sofia's so upset, Rolly… what's going on? Where is Cedric?" she pulled away to stare into the man's tired eyes, his frown deepening.

"I don't know. I really don't know. To be honest, it looks like some sort of kidnapping may have occurred. Although, it seems likely as well that the sorcerer could've fled."

"Cedric wouldn't flee, Roland… maybe he would've before, but he's too close to Sofia. He wouldn't abandon her out of nowhere."

"Well, maybe not out of _nowhere,_ but…" the king looked away nervously.

" _Rolly_! What did you do?" Miranda demanded.

"I-it wasn't just me, dear! I spoke to Goodwin yesterday morning… Izuvell has been closing in. If a war breaks out, they have twelve highly trained sorcerers at their disposal… and we… we have _Cedric_."

"You shouldn't speak like that, dear. Cedric is human too, Rolly."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just thinking of the kingdom, Miranda. Goodwin has some old friends—we were only going to send Cedric to train with them for a little is all. He was supposed to leave this morning."

"I see…" Miranda looked down quietly in thought. "So I suppose that could be a reason to scare him off. Perhaps he didn't want the pressure, or he was angry. But even then, I find it hard to believe he'd just up and run off like that. He didn't leave a letter?"

"No letter, no nothing. The place is trashed, Miranda. I mean really." Roland pulled away, sitting down with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "I don't know, dear. I really don't know what to do."

"What's wrong, Rolly?" Miranda sat on the floor next to him. Roland moved to wrap his arms around her, pulling her into his lap and hugging her smaller form close to him.

"Miranda, I—" his voice broke. Miranda cupped his face in her palm reassuringly as he composed himself. "I-I'm afraid."

"Of what, dear?" the queen whispered as she wiped away the tear that had escaped. Her voice never failed to soothe him.

"I-I just don't know what to do. All these years I've spent dilly-dallying, focusing on everything else when I should've been working on strengthening our guard. It's too late now—we're in danger, and now we don't even have a royal sorcerer. I'm beside myself, I really am. I've failed. I'm so sorry."

Miranda held her husband to her, and he did his best not to break down and start sobbing. She shushed him, running her hands through his blonde hair comfortingly. "It's okay, dear. You've done all you could. It's not your fault; who could've predicted this? We'll pull through. Just hang on. I'm here for you, Rolly."

The king held onto his wife, feeling like a child clinging to his mother. His lack of sleep had begun to catch up to him, and Roland slowly began to drift off, nose full of his wife's rose-scented perfume.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Sofia received a knock at her door. The princess offered a small teary, "Yes?" as she held a pillow close to her body. She'd admittedly been crying most of the day. The teen's emotions had been going all over the place—between mourning, reminiscing, love, and helplessness.

"Princess, it's Goodwin." The voice came from the other side of her door. "May I come in for a minute?"

"Of course…" Sofia quickly wiped her face, hoping she didn't look as bad as she thought she did. Goodwin entered cautiously, his eyes softening upon seeing Sofia huddled up by the window. The elderly man was in good shape for his age, retaining his full beard and mustache. Although his once gray hair had turned whiter over the years and his wrinkles a little more prominent, he looked quite the same as Sofia had always known him.

"How're you holding up?" Goodwin asked gingerly, walking towards the princess like one would a scared animal. He held a box in one hand, and set it next to him as he sat down on the end of Sofia's bed.

"Okay…" Sofia lied. She pulled the pillow further into herself.

Goodwin positioned his body towards her, leaning over with a tender smile and glassy eyes. "Gosh, look at you." He shook his head in disbelief. "You were so young when you first arrived at the castle. I remember it so well. My, how time has flown. I suppose I would've liked to have spent more time with you as a youngster. Perhaps it always felt like I actually _did_ because of how much Cedric talked about you."

"C-Cedric talks about me?" Sofia's attention was grabbed immediately, and she unintentionally leant forward.

"Ha ha, yes," Goodwin chuckled, "that's all he ever seems to want to talk about! Especially the last few years, let me tell you. It's always 'Sofia did this!' or 'Would Sofia like that?' with the boy. He never really did have friends, so it must be an entirely new feeling to him. Winifred was so happy over his excitement… been a while since we've seen any light in the man's eyes. Things were just beginning to look up…" Goodwin paused, grin slowly fading, eyes dimming.

Sofia frowned, turning to look out the window. She wanted to comfort Goodwin, and yet felt as if she needed to be comforted. Leaning back against the arch of the wall, the princess sighed.

"Hey, I didn't come in here just to put you in a worse mood, Princess." Goodwin managed another smile. "Cedric always goes on about how much you love animals. I was never good with the things, really. He's got that damned raven, you know."

"Wormwood?" Sofia sat up—she'd completely forgotten about the bird.

"That's the one. Cedric never liked people, and animals normally didn't like him. But, lo and behold, here he comes home one day on his way back from school with a little injured raven in hand!" Goodwin cupped his hands together in an attempt to reenact it.

Sofia giggled. She'd never known where Cedric had gotten Wormwood at.

"I can't say I really like the little feathered devil. I always used to say to Winifred, ' _That raven's just as ill-tempered as our Cedric, if not worse!'_ Nonetheless, I couldn't complain. The bird stayed loyal to him. When I was preparing to retire in only a few years, I asked Cedric—I said, 'When is that damned bird going to die?' and was informed that ravens can live up to seventy years in captivity!"

Sofia laughed loudly for the first time that day, and Goodwin smiled at her delight. "Where _is_ Wormwood?" Sofia asked. "Is he missing too?"

"No. In fact, that's precisely why I came here." Goodwin stood. "Cedric always said how good you are with animals. I'm no good, like I said, and I know he would probably trust you more with the bird. Would you take him? On if you want to, of course."

"Yes, I'd love to take him!" Sofia pulled her legs off the sill and sat the pillow next to her. Goodwin smiled, handing her the box he'd come in with and heading towards the door. Sofia opened it, to find various types of bird seeds, seed sticks, and some colorful wood sticks. Goodwin came back into the room with Wormwood's covered birdcage in tow, and Sofia quickly stood and took it from him.

"Thank you, Princess. You really were a blessing to Cedric." Goodwin smiled genuinely, and Sofia reached over to hug him.

* * *

Goodwin and Sofia had chatted for a little while longer, reminiscing and sharing stories of Cedric. It felt good to talk to someone else who felt the same emptiness she was feeling, and it was a nice distraction from the truth of the matter. Wormwood became restless after a while, flapping his wings in his cage, his muffled voice calling for Sofia.

At that point Goodwin figured it time to leave. He promised Sofia that he would keep looking with the guards, and do his best to protect Enchancia from Izuvell. He told her to rest easy until things were sorted out, and then departed.

Once alone, Sofia uncovered Wormwood's cage, opening the door and allowing the bird to exit and stretch his wings.

"Sheesh, I've been in that stuffy damned cage since this morning!" the bird squawked angrily, perching himself on the headboard of Sofia's bed and beginning to groom himself. "Of course I tried getting that old coot's attention and he doesn't bother paying me any."

"Wormwood! Where's Cedric?" Sofia got on her bed, crawling closer to the raven.

"I've been _trying_ to tell them!" Wormwood growled. "After Roland and Goodwin ganged up on him yesterday he got all mad—you saw what he did to the place! Got all delusional, packed up and left in search of some shady mages up in the Thallusai mountains."

"Wait, what do you mean they ganged up on him?"

"I don't know, something about the Izuvellian kingdom being a huge threat and that Cedric needs training in order to help protect Enchancia. I guess Goodwin wanted Cedric to go train with some elderly friends of his for a while. The sorcerer got all emotional and snapped."

" _What_? How was I never informed of any of this?" Sofia gasped, springing up. "Thank heavens he wasn't murdered, but what was he thinking? The Thallusai mountains are over the border—he's free game once he leaves Enchancia! Not to mention the groups they've spotted out there recently. This can't be good, Wormwood. I _have_ to do something!"

Sofia leapt from the bed, rushing to her closet and pulling out a small bag, beginning to stuff it with clothes and other random items. "If I leave now I might be able to stop him before he reaches the border."

"Hey, hey, hold on there!" Wormwood hopped to the end of the bed. "The whole reason Cedric left in the first place was to protect Enchancia, and that includes _you_. Don't just go rushing into things like he did, or you're going to wind up hurt, Princess. Cedric's a fool, yes, but he can take care of himself better than you could out there."

"You can't possibly expect me to sit around waiting for Cedric to die out there, Wormwood. I thought you of all people would understand why I have to go after him."

"I do Princess, I do. But see, Cedric cares about you—a lot—and if I were to allow you to go out there and get yourself killed, he'd be furious with me. I'm telling you, the man would have a heart attack. Take it slower and think things through. Gather up all the items you may need and _then_ go after him. It'd be useless if you go out and die before reaching him… if you both end up dying there would've been no point in you leaving in the first place."

Sofia slowly paused, realizing that the raven was right.

"Not to mention, Princess, the fact that your father has the kingdom and surrounding areas all on lockdown. Not only could they find Cedric before he reaches the border, but you'd have to find a way around them."

 _Shit._

Sofia hadn't thought about it. Her eyes began to sting as their predicament slowly sank in. But— _no_ —this wasn't a time for crying. She had to get up, she had to find Cedric. If he was willing to go through so much just to protect Enchancia, she would too. If he was going to go out and be foolish, they could be fools together.

Sofia sat down on her windowsill again, this time with a piece of parchment and feather pen.

"What will I need, Wormwood?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Just wanted to say thanks again for the reviews 3 Things start getting more active in this chapter. Also sorry for any spelling errors I've been making. I should, but I don't really read over them (I will re-read the whole thing and fix the errors eventually though). Thanks again for taking the time to read my story!_

* * *

Sofia spent the next three days going back and forth between determination and depression, stressing Wormwood to what he felt like was the brink of insanity. Why Cedric was so fond of the girl, the raven didn't know. But he was. The stark black bird did his best to console the young princess, keeping her for the most part on track.

Time was running out, and Wormwood knew that Cedric should already be over the border by then. The bird often flew from Sofia's window to look out over the castle, checking just how tight a lockdown they were dealing with. Normally guards were crawling everywhere, but they were beginning to tire after half a week of hardly any sleep and constant searching.

Sofia did her best to act well around her family. Roland questioned her about the day she'd last seen Cedric, but she lied about it. She still couldn't let anyone know about the amulet's powers, and a part of her really didn't want her father to get a hold of Cedric first. He'd be furious for sure, and with his current unstable disposition, who knew what he'd do.

Eventually, everything was set and ready. Sofia had a pack full of necessities prepared, and had spent the last few days slowly gathering assorted pieces of armor from the castle blacksmith when the man wasn't looking. Wormwood and the princess had been talking through strategies day and night, and it was up to her to put them in motion.

The fourth day came, and Sofia was ready to go.

The princess geared up, disguising herself in the armor she'd taken. Using a temporary spell she made herself taller, with wider shoulders and a broader chest. Looking herself over in the mirror, Sofia felt satisfied with the outcome. If she was lucky, no one would recognize her. She looked like a man, albeit with softer and more girly features.

Last thing before she left, Sofia wrote a letter to her parents. She apologized in it, making sure to leave no hints as to where she was headed, and indicated that she was after Cedric. She also remembered to remind them not to look for her and that she would contact them as soon as she could, and tried to add in as mush reassurance as she could.

" _Lux uelut penna!"_ Sofia flicked her wand, casting a light floating spell on herself. Wormwood checked to make sure they were in the clear, before giving her the signal.

Sofia leapt from her window, floating gently down to the ground before taking off sprinting toward the stables. She cautiously checked to make sure no one was around, and then moved on through the stalls until she came across Minimus's. He was one the only Pegasus left, aside from a nursing mother and baby.

Minimus had been Sofia's friend ever since she'd joined the flying derby team back when she was eight. The Pegasus had been a feeble creature, chosen by no one and considered mostly useless until Sofia ended up stuck with him. He's had grown quite a bit bigger over the years, though he remained a smaller than average size for a Pegasus.

At first Minimus looked scared, not recognizing the princess in her disguise. He backed up a few steps until his rump hit the wall. Sofia chuckled, briefly removing her helmet to reveal her face and wavy brunette hair before quickly putting it back on.

"Princess Sofia? What are you doing here?" Minimus asked nervously. "The whole castle is locked down tight. How'd you—"

"Shh Minimus…" Sofia opened the stall and immediately began saddling the Pegasus up. "I'll explain later. We have to go— _now."_

"Wh-What's going on?" Minimus anxiously let Sofia finish the saddle, yelping when she left for a moment and came back with horse armor. "Sofia, what's _this_ for?" he asked fearfully as Sofia grunted, piling the armor on him. It was a tad too big and felt heavy. Minimus had never been used by the soldiers, so the sensation was completely new.

Sofia pulled Minimus out of the stable, and the two cautiously headed towards the village on foot. Eventually the princess got tired and hopped onto Minimus's back. They stayed right next to the path, but in the forest area to keep from being seen. Wormwood arrived soon after, perching atop Sofia's shoulder.

"Why don't we just fly there?" Minimus asked eventually.

"Can't… they might see us." Sofia whispered.

When they were sure they were alone, the three began to talk. Wormwood didn't have much to say, but Sofia tried her best to explain the situation to Minimus without worrying him.

Eventually they reached the village, remaining on the outer edge of it and watching carefully, studying for guards. A few soldiers were walking around, although they paid Sofia no mind. The ones guarding the exit to the outer forest were the only ones to stop the three.

"Aye, I don't recognize you." The oldest of the guards said warily. "You new around here? Ya look young."

"Ah ha ha, yeah, I am. First day out of the castle, actually…" Sofia attempted to make herself sound rougher and manlier.

"What's yer name then, chap?"

"Sof—ah, Sofus…"

The man reached his hand up, and Sofia shook it. "Well, nice to meet you, Sofus…" the elderly man studied Minimus carefully, before moving on to Wormwood. "You've got some strange creatures with ya, sir. This horse looks too feeble to be of any use to a soldier."

At first Sofia wanted to defend Minimus, but quickly stopped herself. Minimus was a fantastic Pegasus with a heart to match, but she wouldn't deny that he was not suited for any kind of battle. She patted Minimus as she went on, "He's petite, but he was the last they had, sir. Better than nothing."

"I see." The man nodded to himself. The other two guards seemed annoyed. "And what about this here bird?" the old man pointed to Wormwood. "Never seen a soldier with a bird. Normally they have dogs. We use pigeons for sending messages, ya know, but they aren't owned by th' guards."

"Animals are more useful than you'd believe. Wormwood here is quite the lookout, sir." Sofia winked, and the man smiled humorously.

"Well I'll be. Pavin' the way for future guards, are ya?" he moved back to his post, standing straight again. "Go on then; apologies for keepin' ya."

"No worries sir, you're just doing your job." Sofia nodded, and they continued out of the village. Once out, she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Anxiety was beginning to take over. Minimus was allowed to begin trotting by then, and they rushed towards the border.

It was night by the time the trio reached about one-third a ways into the forest. Wormwood had been good as a lookout, flying ahead and alerting Minimus between flying or walking guards in the area. Their going back and forth between the two to avoid being seen or questioned was beginning to tire the Pegasus out, and eventually Sofia allowed them to rest.

Minimus quickly began lightly snoring as they curled up in a thick area of bushes, but Sofia was too on edge to sleep. Wormwood perched idly on a branch above the two.

"Honestly, Princess," Wormwood sighed, "I have no idea what the idiot would do without you."

"Cedric?" Sofia asked, tilting her head up to look at the raven. She was tucked under one of Minimus's wings.

"Yes. I wasn't fond of you at first—well, neither of us were. Soon enough I realized it was meant to be." Wormwood shook his head with another sigh. "It began to dawn on me that Cedric needed you—that without you he probably would've ended up in a very bad place."

"Well I've needed him too." Sofia shrugged a shoulder. "We balance each other out, I think."

* * *

They ate mostly on the way, and were making great time. Minimus worked hard, as did Wormwood, and by the next evening they were over the border and approaching the Thallusai mountains. The border had been admittedly hard to cross, considering there were a few Enchancian guards even all the way out there. Sofia went under her "Sofus" ruse again and was able to slip by carefully.

The mountains were nothing special—about five miles away from Enchancian territory, rather dry and devoid of life. There seemed to be no proof of Cedric having been there, and from the looks of it there didn't seem to be any dark mages out there either. They circled the mountainside, but found no signs of any form of civilization.

"I'm confused, Wormwood." Sofia said as they landed at the bottom of the mountain. "I thought he was here."

"He _should_ be." Wormwood landed on her shoulder, tilting his head in confusion. "They're supposed to be here. I don't understand."

"There's got to be someth—"

A strong blast hit Sofia right on the side of her head, powerful enough to send her flying off of Minimus's back, her helmet flung somewhere far off. She lay on the ground dazed for a moment, her mind and body attempting to recover from the sudden agony.

" _Another_ Enchancian? What's with them lately, heading out here all one their lonesome?" A man attempted to approach Sofia, his wand risen in the air. Minimus moved to block him.

"Woah there buddy." The man put his hands up. "Tough guy, are we?" the brown haired man clad in light armor leaned up, looking over Minimus's back to get a glance at Sofia. "Oh—wait, what do we have here? Is that a _girl_?" he turned to the others around him, arms open and green eyes amused. "Hear that, guys? There's a _woman_ all alone out here! Our lucky day, eh?"

The small crowd hooted and hollered furiously.

* * *

Cedric had read through over eight books, and was beginning to learn the basics. He sat in the library and held his hand out, palm up, focusing hard. A few small sparks erupted, and he groaned in frustration. Without a wand it was extremely hard to centralize inner power, and Cedric was starting to wonder if perhaps sparks were the best he had in him.

Theophilus was off again, doing whatever it was dark mages did. Cedric didn't ask much—he'd been spending most of his time studying fiercely. It was already his fifth day away from his castle, and while he was homesick for his tower, he was too focused on his studies to worry too much about it.

They'd been watching Bartholomew and his group, and Cedric was disgusted by the brute's leadership skills. Bartholomew was a good manipulator, and was often out shooting magic at woodland creatures for practice and chasing all of the wildlife away from the area. He was bored, and that was obvious. The whole group was bored. They were sent to antagonize the area, and they were doing it, but attacking wildlife and provoking the guards at the border was sure to get boring as the days passed.

Suddenly Cedric was snapped out of his thoughts—footsteps were approaching the library. It wasn't Theophilus. It was someone with shoes; someone human.

A man walked past the library, backing up when he caught sight of Cedric. The man was wearing what looked to be some kind of regal suit under a deep blue cloak. He stared at Cedric with surprised eyes and pursed lips. Cedric stared back in uncertainty, not sure what to say.

Suddenly the man turned and rushed down the hall again. Cedric could hear his voice echo through the castle, "Theophilus! Theophilus!"

The man entered into the throne room, and Theophilus came hurriedly towards the black-haired male, his face concerned. "Yes?"

"Theophilus, who is _that?_ " the man pointed towards the library. The canine's ears twitched, before he lightly touched the other's elbow, leading them in the dining area. Once out of hearing range of the Enchancian sorcerer, Theophilus stopped.

"He's the royal sorcerer of Enchancia—you know, the castle to the West of here?" Theophilus whispered with a shrug.

"Wh—well _what_ in God's name is he doing here? What have you done?"

"I've done nothing. The ruffians outside were going to kill him, Dolphus. I only helped." Theophilus picked at his teeth again, moving to lean against the dining room table.

"Theophilus you _cannot_ let random people into the castle! What was he even doing around here to begin with?" Dolphus paced back and forth around the room, brows furrowed, arms crossed tightly.

"Looking for us. His kingdom is in danger."

"THEOPHILUS!" Dolphus raised his arms hopelessly, an exasperated groan escaping his mouth. "You fool! Do you know how much trouble this could mean for us? We have _no_ say in how these kingdoms choose to—"

"It's not like we weren't in trouble to begin with. We've been losing members since Valerius, and haven't gained a new one since _my_ initiation. This sorcerer—Cedric, his name is—he's got potential. He's lively."

"The living are thoughtless and irrational."

"Don't forget we are among them, Dolphus."

Said mage leaned up into the canine's face, frown deep. Dolphus was not a man of anger—in fact, he used to be the most light-hearted in the group. But he'd been under stress as of recent. After the historian disappeared, the black-haired sorcerer had begun in a downward spiral. "Are we really, Theophilus?"

"What would Rosemary think of your behavior?" Theophilus growled stiffly. Dolphus backed up, eyes showcasing hurt for a second before hardening.

" _Don't_ bring her into this." He spat, turning to leave. "You'd better hope to _Gods_ you're right about this, Theo." Dophus took off down the hall, and Theophilus stood in the dining room by himself, looking to the floor.

Cedric was still in the library, and had just managed to get a tiny flame upon his palm when Dolphus came in, distracting the royal sorcerer and causing him to lose the flame. Cedric sighed heavily, rubbing his face in his hands. Dolphus approached the purple-clad sorcerer, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. He glanced down at the book in Cedric's hands.

 _Creating Fire from Nothing_

"So you want to light everything ablaze, young sorcerer?" Dolphus asked, causing Cedric to look up to him. The mage held his hand out stiffly, and Cedric hesitantly took it. "Nice to meet you," Dolphus gave a rigid smile, "name's Dolphus."

"Cedric," the sorcerer nodded awkwardly.

"Well, Cedric—welcome to the castle. Do you know what they call this place?"

"What?"

"Back in the old days this old castle was known as _Montem Cor—'_ the mountain's heart'. That was a long, long time ago, though—back a few centuries when we had it open to visitors. It's since been loosely referred to as _Lorechester_ in some writings—although my favorite nickname for it is _The Castle of Glass._ "

Cedric smiled briefly, murmuring as he went back to his book, "Wow, you know quite a lot."

"He was close with the historian." Theophilus's voice echoed from the doorway, where he was leaning against the frame. "Rosemary disappeared around a decade ago. Of course, despite Dolphus having more historic knowledge I'm still somehow the one who ended up being the replacement."

"That's because you've given up." Dolphus was obviously irritated. "I'm still looking."

The tension in the air grew thick. Cedric tried his best to ignore it; he didn't want to fall behind on his reading. Dolphus looked down over the books strewn about, reading the covers and beginning to put the ones Cedric had already read through back into their places on the shelves. The mage was mumbling to himself.

And then suddenly—BAM!

Cedric quickly stood, his chair scraping harshly against the marble before falling over altogether, and he looked through the clear walls of the castle, where a white body had slammed into the side of the mountain. It had short white fur and crumpled wings, and hooves were visible as the body peeled from the dirt and fell down the mountain. The royal sorcerer felt his heart beat faster—he _recognized_ that Pegasus! Cedric shot out of the library, moving to the hall where he could see a better angle of what was happening.

Bartholomew and his group were surrounding a small form on the ground. The brown-haired brute walked closer to the armored figure, leaning down and grabbing a handful of auburn hair. He yanked up, and as soon as Cedric saw that face— _her_ face—the royal sorcerer took off running. He ran with all he had down the halls, out to the big wooden doors where he knew led out through the portal and the brugmansia tree. Dolphus ran into the room as Cedric was yanking the heavy doors open, and the mage quickly came to stop the sorcerer, jerking Cedric back by his robe.

"Are you crazy?!" Dolphus yelped, staring harshly at Cedric as he sat upon the floor. "Are you _trying_ to get us found out, you imbecile?!"

"I _have_ to help Sofia!" Cedric spat, leaping to his feet. One of the doors was just cracked enough for the sorcerer to slip through. Dolphus grabbed at his robe again, only for Cedric to place his hand over the mage's, flames erupting from his palms and forcing Dolphus to let go with a pained howl. Cedric took off down the side of the mountain.

"Fucking hell, Theophilus!" Dolphus grasped the wrist of his seared hand angrily as said canine hurried into the room. "Well you were right about one thing—he's certainly _lively_."

Theophilus helped the mage to his feet, staring in wonder at his burnt hand. " _He_ did this? Ha ha, what did I tell you! He's got potential, this one does!"

* * *

Sofia's scalp burned as she was harshly lifted to her feet by her brown locks, groaning and placing her hands over the man's tangled in her hair. Her temple throbbed, trickles of blood falling down the curves of her face.

"Well, wench? What's your name?" the man's voice boomed over her.

Sofia dug her nails into the skin of his callous hands, mustering up enough energy to shoot a glare his way. He smirked, but his attitude quickly changed when she spat right at his face, effectively hitting his eyes. The man threw her to the ground, cursing and rubbing his eyes. Sofia took the opportunity to boot him right in the back and attempt to take off running as soon as he'd hit the dirt. To her dismay, the other men around her were hollering and laughing, pushing her back in the middle of the circle.

Sofia thrust her wand out, ready to send out a spell when the initial green-eyed thug sent out a blast with his own wand, sending a blast towards her hand. She let out a gasp, dropping her wand and grasping at her wounded flesh.

He was approaching her again, a smile on his dirty face.

"SOFIA!"

The man looming over her was suddenly gone, sent flying by a green flash and slamming off several feet into the ground. Sofia gasped, smiling so wide she thought her face would break. There stood Cedric, his face twisted in vicious fury as he stood with his feet apart, wand gripped tight in his hand. The sorcerer was panting harshly, his hair out of place.

"Cedric!" Sofia leapt to her feet, launching herself into the sorcerer's arms. He caught her and held her to him tightly, taking in her scent. Their dire situation crept up on the royal sorcerer, and he began to pull the princess towards the mountainside.

"What are you idiots doing? Get them!" Bartholomew yelped as he came running up, his clothes torn and side covered in road rash. The soldiers immediately obeyed, drawing out their swords and running after the pair.

Cedric pulled himself and Sofia behind a tree, sending out a powerful explosion of green flame and successfully hitting several of the soldiers. A few got back up and continued the chase, while others remained splayed upon the ground, effectively knocked out. Bartholomew caught up, throwing spells here and there in rage.

The tree was beginning to become uprooted, and Cedric yanked Sofia along. In fear of leading the Izuvellians to the mountain castle, Cedric led them out into the forest, further and further. They were stopped a few times by both soldiers and Bartholomew's spells, but managed to stay just a step ahead. The forest caught fire from Bartholomew's random blasts, spreading fast over the treetops and throughout the brush.

It had only been twenty minutes into their escape when the two found themselves trapped between the flaming forest and Bartholomew's few remaining soldiers. Cedric was weak enough by then so that his spells were losing accuracy, and Sofia's wand was still on the ground where she'd initially been attacked. Bartholomew bounded up soon after, his face twisted in annoyance and wrath. Cedric sent another feeble hex towards the green-eyed brute, which was easily absorbed and sent back out ten-fold.

" _Tolle virgam."_ Bartholomew growled lowly as he marched towards them. Cedric's wand was yanked from his fingers by a strange force, brought to rest in Bartholomew's hands. The soldier smirked, his tattered clothes moving with him as he moved closer. Cedric stood in front of Sofia protectively—he wasn't about to give up.

When Bartholomew was close enough, Cedric lunged forward, only able to barely hit the Izuvellian soldier before the sorcerer was hit with a powerful burst of magic. Cedric bounced up again, moving once again to protect Sofia, and was hit with another blast.

"Cedric!" Sofia gasped, moving to sit beside the sorcerer.

"Will you give up already?" Bartholomew feigned modest annoyance, but was clearly out of breath and weary. "All we want is the girl." He smiled darkly.

Cedric's body ached, and he watched from the forest ground as Bartholomew walked towards Sofia. The princess was holding onto him, and refused to run even as he attempted to get her to. There was nowhere to run.

As Bartholomew had his filthy hands upon Sofia, Cedric reached up, grasping his hands around the grimy man's ankles. The anger and determination was wrought upon Cedric's face. Flames burst from his palms, engulfing Bartholomews legs and moving up the soldier's body. The man was screaming in pain, before dropping to the floor and rolling in agony.

"I-Impossible!" one of the other soldiers gasped. The others took a few steps back unsurely.

Bartholomew had put the flames out on his body, laying on the floor with ragged gasps for air escaping his charred body. "Well?" his voice was thick with pain. "G-Get him!"

The soldiers briefly hesitated, but slowly moved in with their swords out towards the couple. Sofia pulled Cedric's head towards her chest, and Cedric tried to think fast.

Theophilus abruptly flung himself through the brush, moving to protect Cedric and Sofia. He hadn't brought his wand in the rush to get to the two, so the canine's only option left was wandless magic. Theophilus quickly held out his hand towards a soldier approaching upon them, a magical force pushing the man backwards. The canine reached out to another soldier, able to grasp his chest plate and build just enough strength to lift the soldier up and throw him to a nearby tree.

Stomping harshly on the ground, Theophilus rooted himself to the earth and braced himself for a soldier running at full speed with a heavy metal shield. The dog-faced mage slammed his shoulder square into the shield, speedily reaching behind it and grasping onto the soldier's chain-link armor, yanking him up and throwing him off.

The last of the guards moved around Theophilus, ready to strike at Cedric with his sword. Sofia pulled Cedric's weak body back just in time, and the canine mage turned and held out his hands, large flames erupting from his palms and engulfing the soldier. Sofia was horrified by the show, watching the man's metal armor grow hot with the fire and begin to melt over his skin. Her mind was racing, stomach sick, eyes swelling with tears.

Dolphus arrived soon after Theophilus had fended Cedric and Sofia off from the guards, the mage's hands holding both his and Theophilus's wands. He looked over the scene, groaning upon taking in the situation.

Theophilus pulled Cedric to his feet, aiding the royal sorcerer as they walked towards the mountain. Sofia helped cautiously, keeping an eye on the dog-faced mage. Questions arose and bubbled up within her. She was terrified of what she'd witnessed, and yet so joyous that she had Cedric again in her arms. Dolphus glared harshly at his acquaintance, before moving on one of the soldiers.

"What are you…?" Cedric asked as he limped along.

"No witnesses." Dolphus said harshly as he came upon the injured soldier, looking up to him with a twisted leg and fear in his eyes. Dolphus reached his hands down, and—

— _crack._

Cedric turned away sharply. Sofia gasped and began to sob.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Sorry for the late update! I've had a lot of things going on IRL that have recently kind of taken over. Hopefully I'll be able to get posting regularly again very soon! Also, new cover title! 3_

* * *

Sofia clung to Cedric in the confines of the mountain castle.

Theophilus had gotten them just inside and sat them in the throne room, before Sofia had worriedly mentioned Minimus and Wormwood, both of whom had been attacked by Bartholomew. Theophilus rushed back outside to retrieve the two animals, leaving Sofia and Cedric alone. Dolphus was still outside, most likely killing the remaining soldiers who'd witnessed Cedric and Theophilus's wandless magic.

Cedric lay slumped on the marble floor, breathing labored. He wasn't bleeding, though his clothes were quite torn and a few large patches of skin raw. The side of Sofia's head throbbed where she'd been hit earlier, dried blood on her face and in her hair. She leaned towards Cedric, resting her head on his shoulder. The sorcerer put his arm around her, pulling her closer.

Her temporary spells to make herself seem male had worn out just a little after crossing the border earlier, and the remaining armor was beginning to make her feel stuffy. Sofia began peeling them off, dropping the heavy metal on the ground piece by piece. Cedric hovered his hands awkwardly over her, wanting to help but not wanting to invade her space without permission. She chuckled, giving a loud sigh of relief when the final piece of armor had clunked upon the floor. In only a pair of white pants and a white undershirt, Sofia curled once again up against Cedric. He placed his arm around her a second time, pulling her body closer.

Cedric wanted her closer, but was unsure of how to go about expressing it.

Sofia slowly moved herself closer, testing how far he'd allow her to go. She inched her way onto his lap, leaning against his chest, warm with his arms around her. She could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Sofia," Cedric finally broke the silence, resting his chin on the top of her head. "How did you know where I was?"

"You can't escape me." She looked up to him, a grin on her face. He looked so weary, and yet he was still so handsome. The princess reached up to fix his messy gray bangs.

"I—" he looked to her with wide, confused eyes, at first unsure of how to respond. Was she… flirting, perhaps? Was she joking? Why did it matter so much to him? Finally the sorcerer composed himself. "Well, I wouldn't want to, Princess." He grinned in jest, giving her a firm squeeze in his arms.

Sofia smiled even wider, her eyes looking directly into his, arms moving to wrap around his neck. She leaned closer and gave the sorcerer a tight hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her heart felt about to burst; she was overjoyed that she had him again, warm and alive in her arms. They were in a bad situation, and she knew that, but it felt so good just to know he was okay and they were together.

"I missed you," Sofia said in the side of his neck, tears threatening to spill. "I thought you might've been dead!"

"It's alright, I'm here." Cedric felt guilt tugging at his heart. "Come, Sofia—you must be tired."

He got up, pulling the princess to her feet and leading her down the dark halls, stopping at his room. Sofia was gingerly led to the bed, where Cedric made sure she laid down and was comfortable, before briskly leaving. He returned a few minutes later with food and drink in hand, smiling at Sofia's obvious joy at the sight.

Cedric attempted to light the candle on the desk with his hand, but couldn't bring the flame out of his palm. The closest he managed was heating up his fingers, and the sorcerer gave a frustrated sigh as he eventually gave up. Sofia watched curiously, mouth full, big blue eyes bloodshot.

"Cedric," she called quietly, voice soft. He turned from the candle, looking to her. "How did you do that back there? The magic, I mean. You… you didn't use a wand. And neither did that—that dog thing…"

"It's wandless magic, Sofia." Cedric murmured, moving to sit at the end of the bed. "I'm learning many things from the mages."

"Cedric, I'm scared. These mages, they aren't like the people from Enchancia. Or any other mages I know of, for that matter. They could be—"

"I know, I know." Cedric looked down to his hands, voice tired but annoyed. "But I'm not like the people from Enchancia either, am I? Besides, we need protection—the _kingdom_ needs protection."

"The kingdom _has_ protection, Ced—"

"Sofia, you saw that brute out there attacking you!" Cedric moved closer, eyes pleading. "He's from Izuvell, he's one of their sorcerers. That savage, he's only one of _twelve!_ There's no way I can sit back and let some—some swine such as him take over my— _our_ —castle! I will not let them hurt you, or—or anyone else, for that matter!" Cedric was getting worked up, and Sofia leaned over, touching his arm in an attempt to calm him.

"It's okay," Sofia moved to hug him tight again. "It's no use arguing over it now… we're already here, after all. We'll get through it. We'll find a way, Cedric."

They stayed close for a while. Cedric hadn't let anyone so close in his personal space in his whole life. Ever since he could remember, he didn't like people getting so near him, whether physically or mentally or emotionally. It had always felt awkward and uncomfortable. Now, however, the sorcerer felt like a broken child in need of a loving touch. The warmth of arms around his slim waist and reassuring words whispered in his ear felt good.

The two were soon broken out of their moment at the sound of shouting.

"We have no _time_ for forest fires and unjust apprentices!" Dolphus's voice was muffled through the walls. His voice sounded angry, but there was an undertone that rang of something akin to great desperation. "Here the rest of us have been hard at work in preparation and you're off playing schoolteacher!"

Theophilus's voice was too soft to hear what he was saying, but it was clear he was attempting to calm the other man down.

"No, no way. We've got a royal sorcerer and a—a _woman_ in one room, and a damn Pegasus and raven in another! We aren't some kind of charity organization, much less a zoo!" Dolphus sounded furious. Stomping noises and a loud bang rang throughout the castle.

Again Theophilus's hushed voice came, but the other mage was not having it. Dolphus went on ranting and raving, before finally seeming to calm down a tad. "You _know_ why we can't do this, Theo." Dolphus said, voice still slightly raised. "It isn't _fair_. It isn't fair for us to pick personal favorites. It isn't fair to give _this_ sorcerer free magic lessons and not any others suffering just the same as him. It's unjust. Don't you get that?"

Theophilus spoke again, but Cedric was only able to catch a few words. "Dolphus, hush… circumstances… suspicious… cannot let… preparation…"

"You're hopeless Theophilus, I swear. Those men out there—their blood's on you."

Another loud bang, more stomping. Sofia held tight to Cedric's robe as the thunderous footsteps neared the open door of their room, and Dolphus appeared walking through the hall. The mage paused briefly to glance in at the two, his blue eyes cold and calculating. Half-dried blood soaked the black-haired wizard, a few splatters having even reached his face. Sofia's hands held tight around Cedric, and she pulled herself as close to him as she possibly could.

Some of the guards must've been very much alive still, Cedric thought. A dead or otherwise unconscious man would never have bled so far out and in so many directions, would they? Dolphus should've had the knowledge to kill them with little to no mess. They must've fought.

Briefly Cedric wondered what he would do in such a situation. He was a villain enough by now to kill without a thought… wasn't he?

Dolphus continued his way down the long halls, and Theophilus was next to appear in the doorway, ears set back a bit and eyes narrow. His face lifted up a bit at the sight of Cedric and Sofia huddled together on the bed, but fell yet again as Sofia moved to hide her face.

"It's okay, Sofia." Cedric rubbed the Princess's back. "Theophilus is good."

Sofia slowly peeked back up at the canine-faced mage, observing him carefully. The dogface was unsettling. He appeared to be something of a pit/akita mix, with a heavy black cloak of a style she didn't see often but could recognize as a Victorian style. Perhaps one of his strangest attributes were his eyes, strangely colored with bright yellows and reds. It was likely a result of a spell, though that didn't make it any less unsettling. Upon the mage's cloak hung a strange symbol—a plus sign within a circle, the ends extending outside of the circle. Another circle lay inside of the plus sign…

Theophilus's eyes followed Sofia's, realizing they were directed at the iron symbol hanging from his chest. He gestured to it, a smile light on his face. "Do you know what this is?" his voice came out soft, as if afraid to scare the young woman. When Sofia shook her head he went on, "It's a Celtic cross, my dear."

"What does it mean?" she sat up a little more.

"Well, it means many things…" he stepped closer cautiously. "Hope, unity, life, balance… indicating the human desire to know and experience the mysteries of life… representing the meeting place of the divine energies…"

Sofia couldn't say she fully understood what he was saying—the man seemed to be rambling. His voice, however, was profound. He sounded unthreatening, and it comforted her to hear. The dog's ears rose, nose twitching. He looked big and dangerous, and yet innocent in some strange way. The princess laid her had against Cedric's shoulder, observing the canine creature before her. Theophilus eventually realized he was going on too long and looked up to the couple on the bed.

"Ah—sorry, I came here to ask if you'd like me to lead you to your own room." Theophilus looked to Sofia, waiting for a reply.

"I, uh…" Sofia's fingers tightened around Cedric's clothes. She looked to him, to those yellow-brown eyes she knew so well. "I'd like to, ah, stay here… if I can?" the princess begged Cedric with her eyes, and he seemed surprised, cheeks flushed.

"W-w-well of course you can…" Cedric murmured, reddened face turning to the canine.

"As you wish." Theophilus bowed his head. If he felt any emotion, it didn't show. The mage wished them a good night, gently closing the door. His footsteps echoed gingerly down the hall.

For a while after, Cedric and Sofia sat together in a silent embrace. Eventually the sorcerer offered the princess the extra dress shirt he'd brought along, and she took it gratefully, pulling on. Sofia smiled as she looked down to the dark green fabric, baggy on her body. Cedric left the candle on, awkwardly crawling back into the bed, pulling the covers over himself and the princess. The sorcerer was obviously unsure of what to do. He lay across from Sofia, face hot and desperate. He searched her face.

Sofia scooted closer, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him towards her. Cedric followed her hands as they dragged him, unable to say no, hypnotized by those eyes he'd grown to be so captivated by. Sofia buried her face into his chest. The tears began few, ultimately turning to sobs and wailing within Cedric's embrace. The sorcerer didn't know what to do at first, eventually moving to snake his arms around her protectively. His grip tightened and he pushed his face into her hair, fighting his own urge to cry.

"I missed you so much." Sofia whimpered. "I-I thought you were gone."

"I'm right here," he whispered, heart wrenching. "I'm fine, Sofia. I only wanted to protect you. I'm sorry."

They lay like that for a while. A part of Sofia wanted to slap him, and another part of her wanted to grab his face in her hands and kiss him. She was angry that he'd left her, angry that he'd gotten them in such a situation, scared that they were never going to be able to fully escape these mages, scared that her kingdom would be doomed—and yet there was happiness somewhere in there, bubbling within her core. She was joyous that Cedric was alive, that she was in his arms and he wasn't pushing her away like usual and she could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Finally Sofia pulled her head up, hair splayed over her pillow like a halo. She looked at him, and he looked back.

Cedric looked tired—even more so than he usually did. The bags under his eyes were prominent, white bangs muddled and black hair unkempt. The man's clothes were wrinkled and lips slightly upturned. It was obvious he'd been under a lot of stress. The sorcerer's mind had always been a lethal thing, and never had it been more evident. Cedric was a mess of a man, no doubt. But he was a mess Sofia had fallen in love with. He was a mess she wanted to be with forever.

His eyes shifted momentarily to her lips, and then back up to her eyes.

He wanted to ask her why she tortured him so. Why she followed him, why she pursued him and taunted him when he knew he could not have her. In all his life Cedric had never been so tempted—not even the promise of a kingdom or jewels or treasures abound could deter him from wanting her most. But she was not like him, and he knew that. He knew that she had duties to her kingdom to uphold; responsibilities that ultimately would take her away. Cedric could chase her all he wanted and yet he knew—he knew that right when he'd have her, right when she was in his arms and all seemed secure and sheltered within his grasp, she'd be swept from right under him. It wasn't _fair._ It was like a cruel joke played upon the sorcerer. The world was against him.

Sofia slowly leaned forward, and Cedric couldn't help but follow suit. He could feel her breath on his lips, big blue eyes staring intently into his own. He looked back desperately, _hungrily_.

At the last minute Cedric veered his head, resting his lips upon Sofia's forehead.

The man's self-control was running thin, and he knew that if something were to happen he wouldn't be able to contain himself. Never had he felt so much emotion towards one person before. If it all came pouring out at once, Cedric doubted he'd be capable of holding back.

Sofia's disappointment was evident.

It was just a crush, Cedric wanted to tell her. It was a crush that she would eventually get over—because crushes were, more or less, _irrational_. Sofia was a princess, youthful and only just starting out in her journey of life. She didn't need anyone holding her down, especially not a bumbling old sorcerer twice her age. One day she'd be forced to wed, to have another man's royal children, and help hold up another far off kingdom somewhere in the distance. One day she'd realize her feeling were no more than a fascination with magic—an illogical attraction to the unknown that had nothing to do with Cedric himself, because Cedric was unlovable and unattractive and unpleasant.

They slept huddled face to face, trying to forget the dreadful situation of which they had found themselves in.

* * *

The following morning Cedric crept out of bed carefully, allowing Sofia to sleep in as he got himself presentable and headed to the library, where his books were waiting. The castle appeared to be empty, and even through the glass-like walls Cedric didn't see a soul. It was not his business where the mages left to in their spare time, and he kept that in mind, though curiosity did get to him every now and again. He had to wonder where they got their food from, how they made a living, what exactly they did in far off kingdoms around the world, how they got there and why.

Sofia eventually woke up, and Cedric found her wandering the halls fearfully calling his name. The sorcerer led the princess to the kitchen, where she wolfed down a variety of pastries, and they moved on to searching the castle for Minimus and Wormwood. They found the creatures in a vacant room not far off from their own, Minimus standing with bandages galore and Wormwood more or less unscathed preening himself on a nightstand.

In all his years Cedric had never been so happy to see his feathered companion. Wormwood flew to the sorcerer's shoulder, rubbing his beak against the side of the man's neck affectionately. Minimus was having trouble moving around, the stiff dressing restricting his movement. One of his ears was torn and a couple teeth a little chipped, but his wounds were nonfatal. Sofia leapt forward and immediately doting on the Pegasus. Cedric left them alone, taking Wormwood with him back to the library.

It was hard for the royal sorcerer to focus, and Cedric found himself distracted by the thought of Sofia being alone in the castle somewhere. He kept getting up and wandering around, attempting to keep constant tabs on the princess. The progress being made on his magic slowed direly, but he couldn't help it. Cedric wanted to make sure she was okay, that she wasn't in need of help, that she was safe.

Eventually Cedric remembered the ballroom, and excitedly took Sofia's hand in his own, leading her towards the dark and dusty section of the castle. She was at first hesitant, though seeing Cedric's smile eased her tension. The sorcerer pulled her through the large elegant doors and let go of her hands, momentarily leaving her in the dark as he moved to light the candles with his hands.

"Oh, Cedric!" Sofia gasped delightedly as the ballroom lit up. "It's beautiful!"

"I knew you'd like it." Cedric smiled, making his way to the princess as she studied the dirty staircase. He went on, "It's rather unclean, but stunning nonetheless, I'd say. Apparently their mage Rosemary had been the last one to clean the place, and she went missing a decade or so ago."

"How could you have such a breathtaking ballroom and not use it?" Sofia wondered out loud as she eyed the intricate designs of the vines and passion flowers hand-painted on the walls.

"A pity, isn't it?" Theophilus stood in the large doorway, a smile upon his lips. "Balls _were_ held here, long ago. Rosemary always wanted to have another, so she kept the place spiff." He paused momentarily, eyes drifting to the see-through walls.

"She never got to have a ball here?" Sofia asked sadly.

"No," Theophilus frowned. "She was a historian, but also a dreamer. I suppose it wasn't as much the ball itself she wanted so badly as the prospect of dancing with a certain someone."

There was a pause. Sofia looked around the ballroom desolately. Finally she spoke, "What if I clean the place up? Could we hold a ball?"

Theophilus's eyes found their way to the princess, and he stood unmoving for several seconds. Finally his ears twitched, tongue flicking out to wet his nose. "I think that would be a fabulous idea—ah, Sofia, was it?"

"Princess Sofia of Enchancia." She nodded gratefully.

Theophilus looked taken aback, eyes widened and mouth agape. Cedric bit his lip, hoping the canine wouldn't be upset that they were now harboring Enchancia's royal sorcerer and princess within their castle grounds. Finally the mage let loose what appeared to be a nervous chuckle, shaking his head.

"Oh, dear." He chortled. "Well just don't tell Dolphus that, eh?"

"Will do." Cedric nodded firmly.

"Well have fun then, Princess Sofia. I do hope you enjoy your time with us." Theophilus turned to leave, before turning his head slightly and murmuring over his shoulder, "By the way, another of the mages is here. Godric is by far the strangest of us, though I assure you he's harmless." The mage held a hand up and waved as he left, leaving the doors ajar in his departure from the ballroom.

If even Theophilus thought that this other mage was strange, Cedric wasn't sure he _wanted_ to meet him. Hell, if he hadn't met the strangest of the bunch _already_ the sorcerer was beginning to question his personal choices. Could you even _get_ much stranger than a walking anthropomorphic dog mage?

Sofia seemed pacified for the time being, immediately moving to gather cleaning supplies from a nearby supply closet that looked as if it hadn't been touched for years on end. Cedric ordered Wormwood to stay and help the princess, momentarily leaving to check on Minimus upon Sofia's request, and then retreating back to the library.

Cedric picked up his next book— _Magic is Energy—_ sighing as he opened to the first page and began reading the tiny text compiled untidily on the parchment. He'd asked Theophilus once before how there were so many books on wandless magic if the practice was virtually unknown to the world. The canine mage spoke of a fairly sized obscure tribe living in what used to be an uncharted island for several centuries that had founded many normal magical practices known in the modern world. It was from this tribe that others learned of the possibility of using staffs, metal rods, and a variety of objects implanted within a person's flesh in place of wands.

The tribe was much further than the rest of the world as far as magic went—having already discovered and studied the prospects of wandless magic enough to have a large array of hand-written novels on the subject. The tribe was eventually discovered, its people watched and culture carefully calculated by several neighboring kingdoms interested in what it had to offer. Soon enough the rumor had escaped that the tribe had made massive breakthroughs in magic-wielding. Word eventually reached the mages in the mountain.

Valerius, afraid of the possibilities of man finding out about wandless magic, had the tribe wiped out within a single night, leaving only a small portion of books and artifacts in his wake, of which were all collected by the other mages and brought to the castle. Rumors of the event and lost magical potential surfaced. Those who'd originally made contact with the tribe remained strong in their claims, though even these first-hand witness accounts soon faded into nothing more than tales among the people.

This was the first time Cedric found himself truly wondering the exact intent of the mages, and whether or not it was a good idea for him to have come to them. If they would to go as far as wiping out an entire civilization in order to keep a secret, who knew what else they'd be capable of. Surely they'd have no problem getting rid of Cedric if need be. Would he even be able to return home knowing the secrets of wandless magic?

In the end Cedric decided he didn't quite care. He wanted to protect Enchancia—to protect _Sofia_. Let the princess have a life, a chance to be the wonderful Queen Cedric knew she'd be. If that meant dying in the process, he'd gladly give up his life.

* * *

Cedric was about a quarter of the way into the book when it was snatched from his grasp. The sorcerer grunted in annoyance, gazing up into a pale face and pearly white grin. The man looked to be not much older than Cedric, with unruly pastel brown hair lazily gelled back and a stately goatee. The man's skin was pale to the point of looking bloodless, with strange tiger-like stripes tattooed several place around his body. His eyes were a strange shade of purple, with flecks of an icy blue.

" _Magic is Energy,_ aye?" the man read the book's title aloud, a hand stroking his goatee. "You won't get much use out of that, let me tell you…" He grew a bored look, throwing the book aside and moving to search through the pile of books Cedric still had left to read. The sorcerer wasn't sure what to do, raising his hands in attempts to stop the mage and yet not doing or saying anything.

"Ah, um, can you—can you stop?" Cedric asked nervously. The other paused, turning to Cedric with an unnatural smile splayed across his face. Finally the unsettling man reached a hand out, and Cedric took it hesitantly.

"Nice to meet you—the name's Godric." The man shook Cedric's hand vigorously. He then turned back to the books, digging through them briskly, whispering their titles under his breath.

"May I ask what you are doing?" Cedric asked, crossing his arms.

"Well _everyone_ knows magic is energy. Theophilus could've given you a simple rundown instead of having you read a whole book!" Godric shook his head. "It's an easy thing to grasp, really. Cedric, was it?"

Cedric nodded.

"You see, Cedric—here, I'll give you the gist of it. You've probably figured out by now that magic doesn't come from thin air. If we could conjure magic from nothing, it would give any single person limitless power."

"But magic _is_ limitless." Cedric interjected.

"The _possibilities_ are what is limitless. But in order to create, you must give up something in return—equivalent exchange, they call it. People use wands to _centralize_ their magic, not to _generate_ magic. This is why wandless magic is possible."

"So it comes from within the individual, you're saying?"

"As I said, it is equivalent exchange. The person is using their own energy to produce magic as they please, manipulating life essence to do the incredible. But, as life is limited, so is the amount of magic a single individual can produce at once. Use up too much of your own energy at once and—poof!—you're dead."

Cedric had never seen someone die from using too much magic, nor had he ever heard of anyone managing any such a feat. The amount of energy needed to completely extinguish one's own life force seemed inconceivable; one could possibly take out a whole kingdom's men in an instant before reaching a death point. Such magic was unheard of. Perhaps using a wand was, though much easier, also much more limited.

"The force of such magic would explode any wand or staff before a person could manage death, though." Godric went on, eyes unblinking. "Only a person having _complete_ control over their own inner essence could ever manage to kill themselves in such a way. It would take a power moving quicker than the body's energy can replenish itself."

"I never thought of magic and life essence as being so closely connected…" Cedric admitted, staring off in thought. He looked down to his own hands as they lay on the library table, attempting to see or feel his own life as if it were some tangible force within and thinly surrounding him.

"Everything's connected." Godric said, almost bitterly. He had a thin frown upon his face. "Life and death, virtue and evil, love and hate. That's why we mages in this castle associate ourselves with neither extreme… we're stuck in limbo, so to speak."

"That doesn't sound… enjoyable." Cedric immediately thought of Sofia—of loving her, of wanting to save her, of wanting to grow old and perish with her.

"It's how things go." Godric stood. "If you want to enter the castle of glass, you leave your humanity at the door."

"How can I do that?" Cedric argued, standing abruptly as if to stop the red-cloaked mage. "My humanity is what keeps me going. My love and my hate and my struggle to remain virtuous and to die a known man—that's all that keeps me striving for more. If I leave that all at the door, what's the point anymore?"

"I see." Godric at first looked like he was going to be angry, before a smile slowly spread over his face. "You've got promise, Cedric." He concluded gladly, exiting the library.

Cedric slumped back in the chair, frustrated fists slamming on the table. The mages confused and angered him to no end, and though it was better than being belittled and mocked as he was in Enchancia, it still wasn't enjoyable. The sorcerer wondered if he'd ever find peace in his life, or if he was damned to be surrounded by either outlandish or cruel others his whole life.

Then again, Cedric himself was rather cruel. Perhaps he belonged in Enchancia. Maybe they were meant to be taken down.

And yet, Sofia… she was not cruel. Sofia was a diamond among rocks—a single needle within a haystack. Every time Cedric found himself simply wanting to let the kingdom rot for all it had done to him, she brought him back. Not many would've ever thought it possible to keep a villain fighting on the good side so diligently—then again, not many knew Sofia.

* * *

 _A/N: Sorry, I know that Godric's name is really close to Cedric's name ;-; I've had Godric as an OC even before I got into the StF fandom and just couldn't bring myself to change his name when adding him to the story_


	10. Chapter 10

Cedric held his hand out, palm up, a bright ball of fire hovering just within his grasp. It had been four full nights since Sofia had arrived at the castle, and the sorcerer was making good progress. Slowly he began to feel more for his powers—become one with his magic. It was like an extra limb flowing freely from him, and he learned to control it better with each passing day. Godric spent an awful lot of time with Cedric, unlike Theophilus and Dolphus, who were gone most of the day. The royal sorcerer felt awkward and unsure about the new attention he was receiving from the mage, although he did admit that the extra help was nice. Often times Godric would throw books aside, explaining and showing things instead of having Cedric read the full length of the novels.

By the end of only a few days, Cedric was capable of using the elements to his will and conjuring items as he thought of them. The sorcerer was learning to take his surroundings into closer account, discovering the easy use of nearby objects and environmental matter if a battle were to occur. Godric taught Cedric of several different stances, and using the mind to recite spells instead of having to say them aloud. Cedric was just beginning to grasp telekinesis, although he was often busy playing around with fire in his hands.

The way Godric moved his hands was like the flow of a river, soothing and tender. He had a wispy voice and dignified movements, and Cedric did his best to replicate the man's actions. The thing that bothered Cedric most about the mage was his eyes—they always seemed to be looking somewhere else. The whites of Godric's eyes were more or less purplish and smoky, making him appear almost as if he were sightless. The mage was always looking off, always watching things move about the room that Cedric could not see.

"Very good job, Cedric!" Godric clapped his hands, before reaching out and extinguishing the fire on Cedric's palm. "I can see you like fire. You can make it fairly easy, but can you use it to your advantage?"

"I already have, I think." Cedric thought back to when he'd burned Bartholomew, briefly wondering if Dolphus had made sure the man was dead.

"Well you've lit a few candles and scorched a few men, but can you _kill_ with it?"

"Kill?"

Oh.

It had always been in the back of his mind, but Cedric had tried to ignore it. One day, if a full-on war ever did break out, Cedric knew he may have to kill someone—perhaps _many_ people. Years ago the sorcerer wouldn't have been so bothered by the thought—in fact, he may have relished in slaughtering masses of men, making others bow before his powerfulness. Cedric had admittedly daydreamed quite often about doing just that. Now, though, the man was not nearly so fierce or bloodthirsty. He'd toned down since hitting his thirties; became docile. One could even say he was _tamed._

"It's the next step in your training, I suppose. Take the fire you've created and spread it—hurl it outwards like a gust of wind." Godric leaned forward, an eerie smile etched over his lips. "Spit it out like a great dragon—better yet, _become_ a dragon!" he spread his arms out eagerly.

Cedric scrunched his face up unenthusiastically. He'd been turned into animals before, and each time was worse than the last. Even then, turning oneself into an animal was more or less unreliable and could waste more energy than it was worth. Godric seemed to be reading Cedric's thoughts, grinning wider.

"I'm sure as a royal sorcerer you're familiar with transmutation."

"Well yes, but… It's a tricky thing, and can be reversed by anyone. If I turned into a dragon out in the battle field any one of the Izuvellian sorcerers could revert me back with the wave of a wand." Cedric began to pick at his fingers awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Godric was staring the sorcerer down with an unsettling expression.

"Not if the spell is irreversible…" Godric purred.

"Irre— _what_? B-but that's impossible!" Cedric stated loudly, flabbergasted.

"Ah, but did you forget we're dealing with black magic here?" the mage was clearly amused. "Here, I'll show you."

Godric stood and began walking through the shelves of the library, grabbing a wheeled ladder and taking it with him to comb through the rows of books. The man was humming delightedly, once in a while pausing to look about the room as if interrupted by someone, and then resuming his searching. Eventually the mage pulled out a thick, dirty hardcover book and brought it over to the table, tossing it in front of Cedric with a loud thud. Dust flew into the sorcerer's face, and he began to cough, waving it off with one of his hands and giving Godric a good glare.

Godric walked until he was behind where Cedric sat and leaned over the sorcerer's shoulder, beginning to flip through the book. The pages were thick and yellowed with age, bound by hand to what appeared to be a strange smelling type of animal hide. As the pages went by Cedric took in some of the drawings and words depicted throughout the novel. A few of the creatures were recognizable as being extinct, and most all of them were shown in unlikable situations, being used in inhuman practices. Finally Godric stopped at a page.

The title of the page read in big fading letters, _Transmutationem._ Most of it was in another language, although Cedric was familiar with it as an old tongue passed down through generations of sorcery, and could read most of it. Translating it in his head, the sorcerer slowly read while Godric breathed down his neck.

 _Transmutation_

 _Transmutation is the act of changing one's state of being, or physical form…_

Yada yada yada… the beginning was just an introduction to the basics of transmutation, all of which Cedric already knew. He skipped down.

 _Besides your everyday run-of-the-mill transmutation spells found in any beginner sorcery book, there are three main types of transmutations—permanent, curse, and bisected. Permanent transmutations are irreversible, and the former form of the recipient is lost forever. One can perform a permanent transmutation spell on themselves more than once, although the chances of success deplete upon each time used. Curse transmutations are curses placed upon others, only reversible by an affixed set of rules. Bisected transmutations allow the recipient to switch forms, although this is not always done at will. All are dangerous and should only be attempted by seasoned mages familiar with the dark arts._

 _Permanent Transmutation Ingredients:_

· _A pinch of peeled thistle_

· _A handful of smoky quartz_

· _Thylacine breath_

· _The stomach of a winter wolf_

· _A human pelt_

· _A handful of pumice dust_

Wait—"W-what?!" Cedric gasped, pushing himself away from the table, hitting his head into Godric's jaw as he did so. "These ingredients—w-who would use these?"

Godric rubbed his jaw as Cedric turned to the mage, eyes wild. The strange-eyed man shrugged, annoyance thinly exposed upon his features. "They're just ingredients."

"'Just ingredients?' Surely you don't mean that." Cedric staggered. "We're talking about _killing_ things—people, even!—all for one spell!"

"Equivalent exchange, Cedric. The more you ask for the more you must provide."

"Why would you even… why show me this?" Cedric pushed the book away, pulling his hand back as soon as it was halfway across the table as if he'd been burned. "I'd never—I-I don't use innocent lives for my own selfish magical needs."

Cedric stood abruptly, pushing past Godric and heading to the door. He felt a chill down his spine at the thought of skinning another human being. Looking back, Godric was standing right where Cedric had pushed him back with the chair, a strange look upon his face. Finally the mage alleged, "I thought you wanted to save your kingdom, Cedric."

"I do." Cedric spat, hands balled into tight fists. "But not—not that way. Don't ever show me anything like that again."

"You're going to kill people anyway." Godric stood and began following Cedric out of the library. "A few people must die, but it's so hundreds of others can live. Surely you can't be so fragile-minded."

"What is with you?" Cedric turned and pushed Godric away, looking the mage up and down suspiciously. "If you want to transmute someone, transmute yourself."

"I can't."

"And why not?"

"Cedric, come." Godric tugged at the sorcerer's robe like a child. "I told you, you need hands-on experience. You need to prove that you can do this. You need to be prepared."

* * *

Eventually Cedric allowed Godric to lead him towards the castle entrance, although his stomach felt uneasy about the whole ordeal. There was good intent in the mage's eyes, but the sorcerer was not like them, and perhaps the other did not realize this. The only reason Cedric allowed himself to be dragged about by this strange man was the fact that Godric was right—Cedric needed to know what he was in for. He needed to be at least partially desensitized before being thrown head first into black magic, war and death.

Theophilus was in the throne room, and his eyes slowly followed the two as they made their way to the front doors. The dog's ears twitched, and he rolled his eyes upon seeing Godric's eager face. The canine mouthed 'sorry' to Cedric.

They left the castle, heading down the side of the mountain, into the forest. The place smelt faintly burnt, and there were singed spots in the earth and throughout the trees from Cedric's scuffle with Bartholomew over Sofia. A few more yards out and Cedric began to smell something else—something rotten and foul.

"Augh—what is _that_?" the sorcerer asked, face scrunching in disgust. Godric was frowning, eyes glancing around the area strangely, grip on Cedric's robe tight and unrelenting.

"The dead soldiers." Godric said blatantly. Cedric immediately dug his heels into the earth, attempting to pull himself from the mage's grasp, heart beating rapidly. Twenty more steps and they were stopped at a large patch of loose earth, obviously where the soldiers were buried not too deep in the soil. The smell was almost unbearable, and Cedric felt his stomach twisting sickly within his body. Slowly the sorcerer felt himself slide to his knees on the forest floor, gripping handfuls of dirt harshly.

"They're already dead." Godric said. "Why not use their bodies?"

"You're telling me…" Cedric gulped, trying to calm himself before continuing, "…to dig up a mass grave filled with the rotting corpses of soldiers whose deaths I am to blame… and _skin_ one of them?"

"Only the permanent transmutation spell requires the skin." Godric said. "The bisected transmutation needs but a pair of hands."

Cedric had forgotten he'd only read the ingredients for the permanent spell. Still, it made his stomach sick. He finally went on, "Either way I'm defacing a corpse. It's decadent."

"They're only bodies, Cedric—empty shells devoid of life."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Cedric felt legitimately disgusted by the mage, leaning his body away from where Godric stood.

There was a long pause, the only sound Cedric's heavy breathing. They stood in silence for what felt to be an eternity, bathing in the stench of rotting flesh. Remorse and shame were quickly filling Cedric to the brim, for he was the cause of such a disgusting odor—the reason these men had to die, and the reason many more would have to as well in the near future. It was, as Godric had put many times, an exchange. Cedric had to kill these men in order to save his own. They had to die so that Cedric's kingdom could live.

"Perhaps I'm too familiar with using life ingredients." Godric offered, one shoulder shrugging casually. "But imagine how much easier it'd be for you to save your kingdom if you took the form of something else. A dragon, no less! One swing of your tail and men are cast aside like drift wood in an ocean storm."

"Yes, but…"

Dragons had always been depicted as being evil, hadn't they? Cedric thought back to all the fairytales, all the stories he'd been told growing up as a young Enchancian. Dragons were the nasty creatures that guarded the princesses from their princes. Dragons were the scaly demons slain by knights in shining armor to save the people. They did not protect kingdoms, they ruined them. They were fearsome. They brought with them devastation and destruction. Dragons were not heroes, they were never the heroes.

"The people would fear me more than anything though, wouldn't they?" Cedric said after long thought. "Dragons are so _big_ , so terrifying… not properly suited to be the good guys. They don't exactly have a good reputation around Enchancia, if you know what I mean."

"Who's to say what can and can't be a good guy?" Godric grinned again. That smile was really beginning to get on Cedric's nerves.

"Certainly not me," the sorcerer responded with a sigh.

"Tell you what," Godric leaned into Cedric's face, "You get the winter wolf stomach, and I'll get the hands."

Cedric was visibly taken aback, crawling further away from the mage. "Y-y-you want me to _kill_ a winter wolf?"

"Think of it as practice for the possibility of an upcoming war." Godric picked at his nails absentmindedly, before reaching a hand out to Cedric. The sorcerer hesitantly took it, and the mage pulled him to his feet. "There's a pack of winter wolves a few miles north. You'll know when you reach their territory."

"I can't take on a whole pack of winter wolves!" Cedric exclaimed.

"I think we've done enough hands-on practice by now—you should be fine." Godric briefly stroked his goatee in thought, before going on, "Try to find a lone one. If you falter, just think of Sofia; that should give you the courage."

"Courage, or guilt?" Cedric muttered to himself, turning to face north.

* * *

Cedric trudged onwards, heading towards the northern region of the large forest, where the temperature dropped dramatically and most of the wildlife adorned white coats despite it being early spring. The sorcerer was unfamiliar with the area, having never ventured the outskirts of Enchancia before, although he sensed a bit of magic in the brisk air. Another mile and the slick ground was covered in quite a few inches of snow. Cedric held his hands forward and produced a fire in his palms to keep himself warm. Soon enough it became evident that he was no longer in human territory. Long, jagged scratches marked the trunks of trees and the pungent smell of male animal urine hung strong in the air.

Cedric did his best to remain quiet, attempting not to make too much noise with every step he made in the crisp snow. He wandered around for about half an hour before coming across a small patch of blood and what looked to be the leftovers of a rabbit, feeling a mix of joy and dread tighten in his chest. He was on the right track.

And then— _oh!—_ Cedric paused right in his tracks, spotting a large white throng of fur not thirty feet across a clearing. The size of the beast struck him with a sudden immense fear. It was common with winter wolves to be large, but Cedric had never seen a real one in person before, and the sheer mass held upon the creature's frame was enough to make the sorcerer gulp nervously. It stood on all fours with its shoulders at least the height of his hips.

Cedric wanted to run, but his body refused to move. He _had_ to prove himself. He had to show Godric that he was capable of taking a life, otherwise the mage might not help him progress. The books were informal and all, but learning through hands-on experience with Godric was so much faster and easier. He had to do it for Enchancia. He had to do it for Sofia.

But…

Sofia would not approve, would she? The princess loved animals so dearly—even the big mean ones. Even the beastly and the villainous, like Cedric.

As the sorcerer was deep in thought watching the wolf, suddenly a pinecone fell from above, falling at the man's feet. The beast's head jerked from where it stood, narrow eyes resting themselves upon Cedric, studying him. He felt himself freeze momentarily under the wolf's harsh gaze, brought back to reality only as it began its descent, moving its large body towards him with speed. He hadn't provoked it, had he? Cedric had only been standing there, so why was it attacking? In an area so secluded from humanity, Cedric would've thought that the creature would be a bit more hesitant upon his arrival.

As the beast approached, snarling viciously with its mouth open and sharp teeth protruding fiercely from pink gums, Cedric gasped and only barely dodged the wolf's initial attack. Flinging his wand from his sleeve, Cedric sent out a small warning zap into the creature's frame. It yelped briefly, before turning on large paws and barreling once again towards the royal sorcerer's structure, clearly aiming for the man's neck. Another dodge, another little zap. They moved swiftly, this dance of death occurring just within the clearing. Dodge. Zap. Dodge. Zap. The sorcerer couldn't bring himself to do any more damage than that, but he was quickly tiring. Cedric flung himself backwards once more, attempting to provide space between them.

What little space the sorcerer had supplied was swiftly closed by the wolf as it twisted its body and came at him again, unwavering eyes fixed on the sorcerer. He managed to dodge once more, but the winter wolf managed to snag his shoulder, leaving the materials of his clothing torn and bare, bleeding flesh exposed. The beast immediately leapt again, this time too close for Cedric to evade its descent. The royal sorcerer held his wand on both ends, thrusting the mid section between the wolf's jaws. Its teeth clamped down on the wood, denting but not breaking the precious family wand Cedric had worked so hard to receive from his father.

The force knocked Cedric on his back, the winter wolf atop him, and they struggled to overpower each other. Cedric was not a particularly strong man (if that wasn't obvious to everyone already), but the fear of losing his life kept him able to just barely match the wolf's strength. Eventually, though, his arms were failing him, and those bright yellow eyes were getting closer and closer, its breath hot and rancid on his face. The sorcerer had to think fast—his hands and wand were both useless, but his legs…

Cedric flung his legs up, planting them firmly on the wolf's stomach and pushing as hard as he could. The beast yelped in surprise, and Cedric took the brief moment of shock to plant his hand square on the wolf's chest, closing his eyes as he felt something sliding from him. A large, pointed spike had produced from his palm, and he heard the wolf holler in pain, struggling futile as it was held by the long barb pierced through its chest cavity. Warm liquid began to wet Cedric's palms and drip onto his clothing below.

Cedric slowly opened his eyes as the wolf resisted less and less, looking up to its wide gaze and panting open mouth. Guilt seeped into the sorcerer's being as he felt the creature's body slowly dying, its full weight falling over him. He grasped its white fur in his fingers, holding its body up just a little longer. Eventually the shock of it all fell to remorse, and the barb withdrew back into Cedric's palm. He pushed the wolf onto its side, and it fell harshly upon the snow.

Cedric puffed hard, trying desperately to catch his breath as he lay by the body. The wolf's eyes were wide open, mouth twitching slightly. It gave one last whine before its body finally convulsed, and it released the rest of the air from its lungs and fell limp. Cedric watched in horror, fists balling in the icy terrain. He scooted his body away from the carcass, scraping the soft snow below him and leaving a trail of blood.

It took several minutes for the sorcerer to calm himself and he finally stood, cautiously walking to the winter wolf's lifeless body. The white fur was sticky with blood, eyes and mouth still open. Cedric bowed his head to the beast in sorrow, whispering an apology. He wiped his blood-caked face and used a spell to shrink the creature's body to a reasonable size, picking it up in his arms. The heat had already seeped from the winter wolf's body, leaving it feeling rather empty and icy in Cedric's grasp.

Cedric turned to leave the way he'd come, before stopping abruptly in his tracks.

Was that… a cry?

The sorcerer turned slowly. Little noises were coming from the other side of the clearing, sounds of leaves shifting and small grunts. Cedric followed the noises towards the edge of the snowy open space, his eyes shifting around rapidly to find the source of the noise. At first he didn't see them they were hidden so well—and then he listened closer, holding his breath, and spotted them. They were inside a hollowed tree dug into a den-like structure, huddled together tightly. Cedric stared at them, unsure of what to make of the situation.

Winter wolf pups? But the one the sorcerer killed was clearly male. Perhaps he was babysitting, as some wolves were known to do in packs. Maybe he was the father of the pups.

Cedric felt shame rack his body as he stared down at the four little bundles, small enough to fit in the man's palm. They couldn't have been more than a few days old, with their closed eyes and folded ears. The pups squirmed and wiggled around like worms, searching desperately for milk.

"No wonder you attacked immediately," Cedric looked down to the shrunken white wolf in his arms, speaking to it as if it were still alive. "You had pups to protect."

The sorcerer had to rip his eyes away from the sight in order to collect himself. He moved to the other end of the clearing and hid inside of a hollow bush, watching the den.

"I suppose the least I can do is make sure they stay safe until the rest of the pack returns." Cedric murmured, settling down in the frosty snow. The weather was cold and unforgiving, and the lack of movement previously keeping his body temperature warm was beginning to take hold. Cedric shivered against the merciless ice surrounding him.

* * *

When Godric returned to the castle without Cedric in tow, Theophilus was immediately worried. His concern only grew as the stench of death his nostrils hard, and the dirt smeared upon Godric's form. The canine stood, barking to the other mage, "Where is Cedric?"

"I'm testing him." Godric said blandly, patting his well-known ingredient bag hidden underneath his cloak.

" _What?_ " Dolphus stood, voice loud and angry. "Godric, what have you done?"

"He needs a taste of what is to come. You don't want him falling into shock, now do you?" Godric looked bored, beginning to wipe himself of the dirt and other foul substances. "Theophilus, next time you decide to pursue another charity act, please at least _attempt_ to train them properly."

"We were going to do hands-on practice after he was done reading." Theophilus said gruffly. "Godric, where is the sorcerer?"

"We are performing a transmutation spell. I sent him to kill a winter wolf."

"What!?" Dolphus gasped, "He'll be killed!"

"Give the man some credit, will you?" Godric's voice was like silk, smile curling upon his face. "If you had paid any attention you'd of realized he is rather good at magic. _I_ was surprised! And even if he were to fail, it would be one less witness for us to worry about. The winter wolves would take care of the body, too—no evidence."

"That's morbid."

"We're all morbid here—even you, Dolphus." Godric yawned, plopping himself onto the floor of the throne room. "What is that girl doing?" he asked absentmindedly.

"Cleaning the ballroom." Theophilus said after several minutes of thought. He'd been reading more history books before Godric had waltzed in, but now the thick worn novel in his grasp didn't seem so interesting.

"You didn't tell me that." Dolphus was in a bad mood now, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You didn't ask." Theophilus attempted to get back to reading. "Besides, what's the harm? I checked on her just a little bit ago, and she's almost done already. I've already made contact with the other mages, and they've agreed to hold a little ball tomorrow."

"You're not actually serious, are you?" Dolphus was even angrier now. "Theophilus, we have no _time_ for balls! Did you forget that we have a job to do?"

"We've been at work for so long, I'm sure one night won't hurt. Don't you miss being a carefree human, having fun and living life?"

"I can't believe this. It's absurd!" Dolphus stood angrily, walking down into one of the halls and disappearing in the direction of his room.

Theophilus and Godric remained in the throne room, waiting patiently.

The sun had already fallen by the time the two mages saw a figure walking stiffly in their direction. Theophilus had been about to give up hope of the royal sorcerer surviving, and stood as soon as he saw the man's form in the distance. Cedric came closer, and it was clear that he was not in great shape—his skin was bluish, eyes downcast and droopy, body rigid with cold. As soon as he was within the castle's walls Theophilus was throwing heated blanket over the man's shoulders.

"Here," Cedric snapped coldly, pushing a small form into Godric's chest harshly. It was a winter wolf, shrunken down and bloodied, its body stiff from rigor mortis. Godric took it hesitantly within his hands. Cedric turned and left down the hall, and as he did so the wolf's body grew back to its original size, squishing Godric underneath it.

"The man's got talent." Godric's muffled voice came from beneath the thick fur.

"He's certainly got _something._ " Theophilus couldn't help but crack a small smile in the direction the royal sorcerer had stomped off.

* * *

Sofia had stayed up late the following night finishing up her preparations for the ballroom, excitedly adding the last touches. The large room was extravagant, sparkly and glossy and breathtaking. When she finally tired out, the princess returned to Cedric's room and crawled in the bed. She pushed her luck, forcing her body into his arms and laying her head on his chest. The first thing she noticed was how utterly cold he felt. Cedric's skin was ice cold, and she could feel it even through his clothing. The second thing she noticed was the smell— _what was that smell?_ It was rancid and metallic, masking the royal sorcerer's usual herbal scent.

Worry began to snake its way into Sofia's stomach, making her feel nauseous. She had been so worked up with cleaning the ballroom that she had forgotten to check up on the sorcerer. Who knew what those mages were putting Cedric through! Sofia pushed herself against him harder, trying not to shiver from his cold skin or cry from her guilt. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight, hoping her body could warm his up.

* * *

When Cedric began to wake, he curiously wondered why he felt heavier than usual, and why his body was so warm. As he woke more, he realized he felt heavy due to a weight on his body—and that weight just happened to be Princess Sofia.

"Oh, Merlin's Mushrooms…" he hesitantly put his hands over her as she laid on him, arms wrapped firm around his waist, head resting on his chest. He wanted to move her, but didn't want to disturb her. She looked to peaceful. Cedric groaned, "Merlin's Mushrooms, Merlin's Mushrooms! I don't even think I should return to Enchancia at this point, les I want a noose around my neck!"

"Cedric?" Theophilus's voice came from the other side of the door along with a light knock. Cedric was thankful that the walls were only see-through on one side so that the canine mage could not see the princess on him in such a way.

"Y-y-yes?" The sorcerer inwardly cursed his stuttering.

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were awake. Since we're having Sofia's little ball tonight I wanted to get started on your training early." Theophilus said.

"Ah, I'll be out right away!" Cedric responded. He carefully lifted Sofia from his body, laying her beside him and tucking her into a blanket. If he could he would watch her sleeping form all day. She looked so peaceful, mouth open slightly, big blue eyes closed and long eyelashes prominent. Even her hair, despite being messy, seemed so perfect. He reached a hand out and ran his fingers gingerly through her soft hair. Not a moment passed where she was not beautiful.

Cedric finally forced himself to get up, changing from his night clothes, which stunk of death and blood. He washed himself up, lathering on as much soap as he could in order to mask the horrid stench of the previous day's activities. He didn't even want to think about it. Afterwards, the sorcerer dressed in his usual clothing, purple robe and all.

Cedric practiced with Godric for most of the day, although both Theophilus and Sofia were coming in often to check up on them. The royal sorcerer felt almost as if he was constantly being watched, which didn't help his performance at all.

It was six o'clock when Sofia giddily sprinted into the library, grabbing Cedric by the arm and pulling him to his feet. "The ball's all set up Are you ready?" her eyes were so bright, cheeks so rosy. Excitement oozed from her every pore, and Cedric couldn't help but feel a bit of that excitement himself. Sofia had never been huge on parties and balls, but she enjoyed them occasionally (especially with Cedric it seemed). Her older sister Amber had always taken full control over any and all party planning, so it must've felt good to be in charge of one for once, even if it wasn't quite Sofia's thing.

"Of course, Sofia…" Cedric smiled down at her, and she began to pull him away. The sorcerer quickly became confused when he realized they were not heading towards the ballroom, but their own room. Sofia pulled him in and closed the door, running to the drawer to retrieve her wand. "Sofia, what are you…?"

Before he had time to think, Cedric saw his clothing begin to sparkle and transform. He gasped, watching his usual garments change into what appeared to be a regal suit. The deep purple coat was thick and well made, the coattails hanging low and dress shirt white as snow. Sofia giggled graciously, looking the sorcerer up and down. Cedric felt uncomfortable, feeling anxiety seep into his veins. He nervously loosened the cuffs of his new suit.

"I always told the twins you'd look dashing if you'd only put on a suit." The princess smiled kindly, melancholy lacing her words. "If only they could see you right now, they'd know I was right."

"Sofia, I don't think—"

"Oh! Stay right there! I'll be right back!" Sofia jumped back to life, excitedly leaving the room.

Cedric stood anxiously, unsure of what to do with himself as he waiting for the princess to return. Oh Merlin's Mushrooms, what was she doing anyway? He couldn't imagine why she'd finally gotten to dress him up like a doll (something she'd wanted to do for a long time, though Cedric always refused with every fiber of his being) and then just up and run off. It seemed like forever until the door opened again, and Cedric looked up—

"S-Sofia…" Cedric gasped.

"How do I look?" she smiled, grasping the fabric in her dainty fingers and twirling slightly in the ball gown.

It was different from her usual dress, with deep purple fabric to match Cedric's coat and beautiful lace trimming. The layers were thick but not too much so, with a few ruffles and a pearly beads strung around. Sofia's frame was hugged just right, accentuating the small waist and womanly figure she usually hid. Her hair was up, a few curly strands loose and tickling the frame of her face.

It wasn't anything nearly as extravagant as Princess Amber would've chosen, and yet Cedric was star struck. When had she become like _this?_ He had never quite noticed just how much older she was now. It felt like just yesterday she was a little caterpillar excitedly knocking on his door to learn cutesy little spells or ask for help on some upcoming petty magical test in school. But when had she blossomed into a butterfly?

When did she _grow up?_

For a moment Cedric felt sorrow. Here she had been by his side for almost a decade, helping him prosper as a person, always fighting for him and supporting him even when he detested her. Here he was supposed to be some type of guardian figure to her, supposed to be a friend, and he had never noticed her descent into adulthood. He hadn't opened his eyes enough to pay attention, to watch that little girl mature right before his eyes. Knowing himself, it would probably be the only child he'd ever have the chance to watch grow. Cedric knew well enough he'd never produce heirs in his lifetime. It was a realization he'd had dawn upon him a long time ago, and though it was hard to swallow and a harsh blow to his pride, he'd learned to accept it.

"Cedric?" Sofia's voice snapped the sorcerer out of his thoughts. "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh—ah, o-of course, Princess." Cedric bowed his head in apology, offering her his arm as they exited the room. She took it graciously, a giggle escaping her lips. "What are you laughing about?" Cedric asked suspiciously.

"You just—you look so handsome! I never thought I'd get you into a suit." Sofia couldn't hide her wide smile, leaning into his body.

"Yeah, right." Cedric scoffed. "Well I wouldn't get too used to it if I were you, Princess."

"Sofia."

"Hm?" Cedric glanced down to her questioningly.

"I told you to call me Sofia." She reached up to poke the tip of his nose teasingly, to which he backed his head away in annoyance.

"Well, _Sofia,_ the only reason I'm letting you dress me up in this insufferably stiff outfit is because it's my fault you almost lost your life a few days ago."

"In that case, I'll try to do that more." Sofia smirked mischievously, to which the sorcerer gave her a disapproving look. The way she got under his skin was almost more intolerable than the suit.

"You'd better not." Cedric said warningly.

"And why not?" she challenged him.

"Because I'm tired of saving you from deadly situations, that's why."

"Then you should let me dress you up more often."

"Why you little—" Cedric was glaring lightly down at Sofia as she laughed, holding tight to his arm. They'd just reached the ballroom, opening the wide doors and entering over the glossy floors.

Cedric stared in awe at the beauty of the place, surprised at the progress Sofia had made in such little time. No doubt she'd had some help from Minimus and Wormrood, not to mention all of the magic lessons and cleaning spells the royal sorcerer had taught her over the years.

The place almost seemed to be sparkling, with its sleek golden-yellow marble floors and elegant vines painted snaking up the walls. The wooden trim on outer edges of each wall was bright white, contrasting nicely against the dark oakey walls. Even the glossed artistic vines and passion flowers on the walls were vibrant and incredibly unique. The white columns and white marble steps were devoid of every speck of dust, as well at the vinelike carved railing leading up to the fitting rooms and balcony.

In the middle of the room was a small table covered with an old black cloth, upon which were a few foods and drinks to choose from. Cedric looked around the room, counting the people. One, two, three, four, five, six…

Theophilus welcomed Sofia and Cedric, a smile upon his face. He was devoid of his heavy cloak, dressed in a suit. _Still a dog, though_. Cedric thought to himself. Godric was conversing with three others by the punch, and Dolphus was standing by himself, leaning up against the far wall with a look of disdain settled upon his face.

"Come, meet the others." Theophilus led the Enchancian couple to where Godric stood. "Bernadette couldn't make it, unfortunately. She's been making some observations in a fresher domain—got caught up in her work, as she tends to do. Everyone else is here though."

Cedric was introduced to Orville first. Orville was an older man with grayish hair and a beard—your everyday, normal-looking civilian. To think that such a jolly old man was involved in such dark magic was somewhat frightening. Cedric began to question all of the cheerful elderly sorcerers he'd met throughout his life.

The next was Gertrude, a middle-aged woman with fiery almond-shaped eyes. She had slick black hair cut short, with dark crimson lipstick. The woman had strange markings tattooed on her arms, left uncovered without her cloak.

The last was Matilda, a youthful young woman with a curvaceous body and full lips. Her movements reminded Cedric almost of Amber's, except with more experience, more flow and sway and seduction. The woman was dressed without cleavage showing or skin-tight clothing, and yet she oozed sensuality.

"It's nice to meet you, Cedric." Matilda smiled, leaning forward and studying the sorcerer critically. "I've heard quite a bit about you from the others."

"Ah, h-have you?" Cedric leaned away from her, gripping onto Sofia for security.

"Matilda, personal space." Gertrude reminded the other mage absentmindedly as she poured herself a glass of punch. Matilda backed up in response, uttering a curt apology.

"Well? Shall we dance?" Orville's eyes lit up and he held out a wand, creating instruments from thin air. They began to play softly by themselves, and the girls giggled joyously. Orville reached a hand out invitingly to Gertrude, and she took it graciously.

"It's been so long since I've seen this place lit up." Matilda took Theophilus's hand in her own, and they began to dance. "How long has it been, Theo? How long have we gone without a ball all to ourselves to celebrate our achievements?"

"Too long," Theophilus smiled.

They'd always been strict with themselves, always kept the partying to the rest of the world. Everything in their universe was work and analyzing and observations. Even when Rosemary used to beg, even when Orville had suggested a ball was a good idea, the others would not let in. _We have no time for parties._ Theophilus used to say. _We have time only for our occupation._

He realized after she was gone truly how wrong he had been. They all did. Without her light, without her humanity and her cheerful smile, things were bleak. She was a party of and within herself, that woman was, and they needed her just as much as they needed boring old Theophilus or the paranoid Dolphus. They craved it afterwards, craved to hold balls, to have entertainment, to be a little family, even just for a second. But no one would speak out. To indulge in Rosemary's fantasies right after her department would be distasteful.

But they had an excuse now. They had an excuse to pander to the dream, to greedily lap up the festivities as they were given by the princess of Enchancia.

Sofia looked up at Cedric, those big blue eyes begging him silently, pulling his strings like a puppet made to bow before its creator. Before he knew it, his hand was in hers, the other at her dainty waist, and they were gliding smoothly across the ballroom floor. He didn't know where to put his eyes, and felt especially self-conscious with Sofia's large, unrelenting stare on his face.

"You really are dashing, Cedric." She smiled kindly.

"Oh, please. Spare me your charity already, Princ—ah, _Sofia_."Cedric sighed, looking away.

"I'm only being honest, really. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?" she looked at him, her face slightly hurt, and he didn't want to look back. He refused to be held captive again by this woman's stare.

"I know you like the magic, Sofia." Cedric's face slipped for a split second, revealing his distress. "Without the magic, I'm an old bumbling fool. Hell, I even _with_ the magic I'm just... I'm a joke to the kingdom. I'm sure you know that by now."

"People cast aside things they don't understand." She was so forgiving, so tender that it almost sickened Cedric. "I could go to anyone for magic—I could ask the fairies or teachers at school if I wanted to. But I don't, because I like _you_."

"You _don't_ like me, Sofia." Cedric grit his teeth.

"You're right. It's more than that."

He could feel her eyes piercing into the side of his head. For a moment the sorcerer's breath caught in his throat. His world slowed to a stop, and he couldn't resist the urge to look at her. It felt like some kind of sick joke, like all his dreams and wants in life were crashing down alongside his nightmares. The shock must've been obvious on his face, for Sofia grew worried.

"Sof—"

"You don't like me?" her frown was deep, hand cold in his own. He tightened his grip on her.

"N-no, it's not that, it's just…" he paused. It was so hard to speak, so hard to move when such unfamiliar feelings were bubbling up within him, exploring untouched territory, awakening emotions he didn't know he could possess. "It's not proper." He finally muttered, closing his eyes tight, attempting to shake away the sensations heating his body and confusing his brain.

"Who's to say what was proper and not proper?" Sofia responded stubbornly, eyes severe in their reign upon his own. She was a fire that had him cornered. She had him yearning for her flame. It was becoming harder to control himself.

"The kingdom would not approve. The _King_ would not approve."

"Well he'd have to learn to." She insisted.

"I don't think you understand. He'd have a noose around my neck the very second—"

"What makes you and me different from him and my mom? My mom and I were not of royal blood, and still they married."

"The age gap, Sofia. And even then, I'm not just any old non-royal, I'm _Cedric._ I'm the laughing stock of the castle workers, the disappointment to Goodwin the Great and embarrassment to your father."

"Yes, you _are_ Cedric… Cedric the Sensational, no less. The man I want to be with."

 _More like Cedric the Sorrowful._ The sorcerer thought to himself.

"Where is all of this coming from?" Cedric asked nervously. The song had changed twice already, and they'd moved towards the marble steps leading to the balcony. Finally the sorcerer felt the princess pull away from him, and for a second he felt sad at the loss of contact. She gestured up to the balcony, and Cedric no longer had the power to say no to those eyes.

The outside air was cool against Cedric's skin, the sun just barely hitting the top of the forest. There were more vine paintings leading to the outer walls of the castle, creeping around and under the balcony as if attempting to escape. The white railing had flowers and vines carefully carved into it, smooth to the touch.

"I wanted to see the sunset." Sofia explained quietly. The view was striking, but there were a few trees just a bit too close to see the sunset at its best…

"Want to see it better?" Cedric pulled his wand from the suit, waving it in front of him. Sofia smiled widely, that look she got whenever she saw magic, that look that he'd come to seek out, to crave. She nodded her head excitedly, and he wrapped his arm around her waist securely, floating their bodies into the air at the flick of his wrist. She squeaked, holding onto the sorcerer's body tight with both hands. They hovered towards the top of the mountain, where the sorcerer set them down again.

The two settled on a small grassy patch on the mountainside, staring out at the new view. The sky was beginning to turn bright colors, oranges, pinks and purples streaking the sky. The clouds lit up almost as if from the inside out as the sun continued its descent into the earth below. They could see hundreds of trees and wildlife for miles to spare, treetops bright and lush against the sky.

"It's gorgeous, Cedric." Sofia clung to him tightly, her head against his chest, scent filling his nostrils.

"You're gorgeous." He blurted. By the time Cedric realized what he'd said it was too late—she'd pulled her head away and looked at him in surprise. The sorcerer felt his face heat up, leaning away from her. "I-I-I mean, ah…" he stuttered nervously.

"Do you really mean that?" she studied his face carefully, looking as if she was holding something back.

"W-well…" he sighed, defeated. "Yes. Yes, I do."

A smile crept over her face, and suddenly the sunset before them seemed to pale in comparison. Cedric was cornered, so close to her, his last ounce of control shattered. She took the initiative, leaning her face up, hands rising to grab gingerly at the back of his neck. Cedric, no longer able to hold back, bent his face down towards hers. For a moment he stopped, lips only centimeters from Sofia's. Never before had the royal sorcerer been so nerve-wracked in his life—not before his father, not before his peers, not even before the king himself.

Finally their lips met, and it was like the whole world had stopped, just up and stood frozen for the two of them. Suddenly there were no more dangers of war, no more threats from neighboring kingdoms or disapproving royals or strange mages. There was only Sofia. There was only love.


	11. Chapter 11

SORRY FOR SUCH A LATE UPDATE! Unfortunately life has been rather unforgiving lately—just had a family member given six months to live and am getting ready to go to college. That being said, no I have not abandoned this story, and I do not plan on it! I AM finishing this! Thank you for everyone who has stuck along thus far!

* * *

Cedric held the princess in his arms as they watched the sun's final rays of light begin to sink far below the surface. It was extremely hard for him to control himself, and the sorcerer's lips tingled for just another taste. _Just one more._ His conscience pleaded, and Cedric's hair stood on end as he fought it with every fiber of his being.

He knew she wanted him to go further. Sofia was testing the boundaries, giving him little touches and attempting to sway him with beseeching looks. She'd lean up out of the blue and capture his lips again, pulling him closer, moving, trying to rile him up. Each time Cedric reciprocated gingerly, slowly, keeping his hands at her face or tangled in her soft hair. Eventually he'd have to pull away for fear of losing himself, panting and looking down into that frustrated face of hers.

" _Cedriiiic,"_ Sofia whined impatiently.

"Sofia, we can't." he held her and attempted to make her understand through his eyes. She wasn't having any of that.

"Oh _why not?_ I've waited for this for so long!"

" _Honestly_ , Sofia!" Cedric retorted. "You're not the one playing with death here!"

"I'd never let them hurt you."

"You wouldn't have a choice, dear."

"It's not like we'd have to stay there, anyway." Sofia turned to look at the sky, holding his arms around her body and pressing herself back into him. "We could always leave, you know. We're doing fine out here, aren't we?"

"You would miss your family." Cedric tried his best to think logically, no matter how good it sounded to escape Enchancia with Sofia. "They would never stop looking for you. Not to mention I'd have an enormous bounty on my head. Besides, you don't even like it here."

She leaned further back into him. "I like it wherever you are."

"I think everyone in Enchancia knows that, darling." Cedric chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and leaning forward to rest his chin on her shoulder.

"Good." Sofia giggled when the sorcerer's long nose tickled her cheek, turning her head to give him a peck on the lips. She'd craved the man's love for so long, and now that she had it she wasn't planning on going without it ever again.

"What a night…" Cedric sighed deeply. "I'm inclined to think this is all a dream."

"And why is that?"

"Well— _you_ , fancying _me_? It seems rather implausible and sudden…"

"Sudden!? Do you know how long I've been trying to get your attention?"

"No! Since when?"

"Well," Sofia paused for a moment, licking her lips and collecting her thoughts. "Honestly, I've always liked you. I knew for a long time that I had a crush on you, so I'd tease you a lot, but I didn't realize it was more than that until I turned seventeen."

"Is that right?"

"Yes… my father brought up my age—' _In a year you'll be of age to be married.'_ He said. He told me to keep it in mind that when I turn eighteen it would be tradition for me to marry. He asked if I had anyone in mind… I was surprised, actually, when you were the first person to pop into my head. I understood then, how I truly felt about you."

Cedric was silent, staring off into the dark sky.

He'd realized when Amber turned of age and was pressured to find a suitor that Sofia would eventually as well. The feelings welling up within him back then were both confusing and enraging. He'd locked himself up in his tower for well over a week, sulking and trying to come to terms with his emotions. Not even Winifred could get him out of his deep depression with her tender mothering or freshly baked fly cakes.

It was during that dark time when Cedric had destroyed the magical painting of his parents hanging up in his room—the one that allowed them to watch him comfortably from their little home in Mystic Meadows. He was not a little boy anymore; he didn't need to be looked over and spied on from that damned framed portrait. He couldn't allow them to see his dismay. They wouldn't understand.

It was around that time that Cedric vaguely recognized what he was feeling, sitting curled up alone in his dark tower. He did all he could to get the bubbly princess's face out of his head, attempting to restrict himself, to distract himself from the thought of her. Eventually he gave up, allowing himself a few daydreams here and there. It was wrong, and he knew it. He felt sickened by himself, felt utterly disgusted with the feelings bubbling up within him, and so the sorcerer pushed it to the back of his mind.

"They'll be missing us." Cedric whispered with a sigh. "Besides, you're missing the ball you worked so hard to set up." The sorcerer stood, gingerly pulling Sofia up with him. She grumbled, but finally agreed, allowing Cedric to hold her close and float them back down to the balcony. Just before he led her in, however, the princess snuck a quick kiss, giggling at the man's flustered reaction.

The two headed towards the food table, pouring themselves some punch.

"Ah, there you two are." Theophilus approached, arms out in greeting. "I was looking for you, Sofia. I was wondering if you'd like to dance."

"Dance?" Cedric muttered aloud.

"Yes, dance. Unless you'd rather I danced with you?" Theophilus winked jokingly, to which Cedric crossed his arms and gave a sour look. "Just kidding, Cedric." The dog laughed, patting the sorcerer on the back. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on making a move on your girl."

Another wink.

Cedric growled in irritation.

Sofia giggled into her palms, watching as the canine bowed courteously and held his hand out for her to take. The princess curtsied back in kind, accepting his offer, and Cedric grumbled as they headed out to the dance floor. Theophilus was kind enough to keep his distance. Sofia noticed that his large hands were covered in soft downy fur. She held onto his shoulder, noting his severe height. The dog's eyes were on her, shiny and pleasant.

"You and Cedric seem rather close." He spun her gingerly with one hand.

"Yes, well I've known him since I arrived at the castle." Sofia replied.

"You were not born at the castle?" his brows furrowed.

"No. My mother and I lived in the village until she married King Roland II when I was eight. I'm royalty through marriage, you see."

"I see…" he paused, eyes wandering off in thought. "How very interesting. Back when I was young, that would've never been allowed. How times have changed."

"Were you ever married, Theophilus?"

"No. I courted a few lovely women in my youth, but that was a long time ago. Once I came here with the mages, though, courting became an inconvenience to the group." He paused for a moment in thought, before going on, "Orville was married once, if I remember correctly. However, she fell ill one winter and he journeyed far to find a rare magical flower with healing capabilities… turned out the only recent one ever found had been plucked and used on the Princess of another kingdom—Princess Rapunzel, I think it was."

"How sad…" Sofia's face revealed pity. "I'd do the same, if Cedric ever became ill. I'd do _anything_ to heal him."

"Is that so?" Theophilus seemed amused.

"Yes!"

"I suppose that's believable, considering you almost died coming here to find him." The canine chuckled softly, eyes wandering off in thought. Slowly his smile faded, and Sofia turned to where his vision was directed—Dolphus. The mage was leaning gloomily against the far wall, arms crossed and face contorted in what appeared to be resentment.

Sofia turned back to Theophilus. "Is he okay?" she asked worriedly.

"He'll be fine." The dog gave a heavy sigh. "He's just a sourpuss is all."

"Is it because of the mage you mentioned before—the woman?"

"Rosemary?" Theophilus's eyes narrowed looking at Dolphus, before directing his attention back at Sofia.

"Yes… I've heard Dolphus speak of her often. He seemed attached."

"Attached?" Theophilus scoffed, "More like smitten! The man followed the poor lass closer than her own shadow." A smile ghosted over his lips.

"So he loved her, then?" Sofia frowned.

"I'd say so." Theophilus chuckled, face eventually hardening. "But mages are not meant to form romantic relationships among each other—it's improper and dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Sofia echoed.

"Well, mages are chosen specifically for their skills. Each of us is more magically inclined than your average sorcerer. A child between two of us is just too unpredictable… besides, this is no place to raise a youngling."

"They never got together, then…" Sofia murmured, looking again at Dolphus. "I can't imagine loving someone for so long and not being able to be with them…"

"Is that so?"

"Well, not for _that_ long, anyway." Sofia couldn't help the blush that spread over her cheeks. Cedric watched angrily from the punch bowl. The princess went on, "Would you have been okay with them, if they _had_ gotten together?"

"That was my biggest mistake, I think." Theophilus frowned deeper, ears falling flat against his head. "I reminded him often when I thought he was getting too close, that it was not right. I kept a keen eye on Dolphus. Now that she's gone, and now that he's changed, I've begun to think that perhaps I was the one in the wrong. Maybe sometimes what's perceived as "improper" isn't so reprehensible after all."

"Hey, it's alright." Sofia touched the dog's cheek gingerly, smiling sweetly at him. "You did what you thought was the best thing. We all make mistakes, and we learn from them."

"You're like her, I'm afraid." Theophilus sighed. "If you're not careful, you may find yourself disappearing as well."

It almost sounded like a threat, and it took a few minutes for Sofia to recover from the canine's strange words. Looking into his eyes though, she saw only pools of guilt. The princess's attention fell once again on Dolphus. She briefly wondered what Cedric would do if anything happened to her. Would he move on? Would he change? Gradually Sofia slowed their dancing to a stop. Theophilus, sensing her intentions, moved out of the way, a small smile upon his lips.

"He puts on a strong front, but he's broken inside." Theophilus murmured as he watched the princess move smoothly across the ballroom floor.

* * *

A person's shadow steadily fell over Dolphus, causing the mage to instinctively look up. There she was, the woman who had come from Enchancia in search of the royal sorcerer—Sofia. She had a sickly sweet smile on her rosy lips, body bent forward slightly, jutting her open hand out. Dolphus pulled his lips back in distaste; "What do _you_ want?"

"Dance with me?" she asked with a voice like silk. It made the mage uncomfortable, and he had to inwardly laugh at his inexperience with all things female despite being centuries old.

"I'd rather not." Dolphus turned his shoulders, desperately wanting to be somewhere else—anywhere else—away from _her_.

"Oh, come on!" Sofia leaned down, dainty hands grasping at the mage's cloak and yanking. Dolphus grunted as he pulled back, face turning red. He was annoyed, and yet—there was something else, something familiar… something exhilarating and bright. Finally the mage shrugged off his cloak, sending the woman backwards, barely able to stay on her feet.

Dolphus knew that being rude to women was especially looked down upon, but the man personally felt triumphant. Surely no sane woman would dare stay after _that_.

Unknown to Dolphus, however, Sofia was experienced with such reactions. The attractive young girl crossed her arms, purple dress swaying as she shifted her weight on one foot, jutting a hip out. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. Dolphus knew he was in trouble, for the face he saw before him was certainly _not_ the face of a sane woman.

* * *

Cedric grumbled in irritation from the food table. Of _course_ it was his luck to get Sofia's affections and then have her swept away—and by a _dog_ no less! The sorcerer crushed the small punch cup grasped in his hand, only realizing he'd burned it up when he looked to his heated palm to find ash. The smell of smoke snaked its way up to his nostrils.

"Better watch that anger." Matilda purred, a wolfish smile spreading evenly upon her lips. Dark curls framed her face. Her complexion was so clear, the color reminiscent of the rich milk chocolate pieces Cedric had tried once when he'd been forced to accompany King Roland II on a trip to the kingdom of Chalenia a few years back.

"What anger?" Cedric quickly shook the ash from his hand, pretending to be oblivious. Matilda chuckled, lifting a hand to cover her open mouth.

"Where in the world did Theophilus find you at?" she shook her head, before raising a hand out to the royal sorcerer. "Dance with me?"

"A-ah, uh—I'd rather not, thank you…" Cedric turned to look for Sofia, and found her dancing with—Dolphus! _?_ _Hey! When did that—_

"Come on, stranger. Let's dance!" Matilda grabbed Cedric's arm, pulling him out towards the floor. The sorcerer was too busy staring at Sofia, face heated as he watched the mage dancing awkwardly with _his_ Princess.

Now, Sofia dancing with a dog was one thing. But a _man_ , that was another.

"Hey, are you listening to me?"

Cedric looked back to Matilda, who seemed more amused than angry. Her eyes looked to Sofia and then back at him. She'd placed Cedric's hand at her waist and held his other in her own, and she pulled him along on the dance floor, swaying their bodies. The mage was graceful, her almond eyes intensely searching the royal sorcerer's face. Cedric felt incredibly self-conscious around Matilda, turning again to search for Sofia in an attempt to calm his nerves. The Enchancian princess had always calmed him.

"I've heard good things about you, young man." Matilda's voice was like silk, but her eyes were narrow; scrutinizing. "Theophilus sees a strong sorcerer," she paused, lips pursed, before going on, "but all I see is an emotional wreck."

Cedric's head whipped from Sofia, eyebrows furrowing, heart thrashing wildly within his chest. He looked down upon the mage with a mixed look. The atmosphere around them had changed, shifted into sour territory.

"I see a lovesick fool, an angry soul, a guilty conscience..."

Cedric could feel his hands heating up, trying his best to keep the temperature down.

"There goes that anger again." Matilda chided. "You've been oozing a constant flow of feelings since you stepped into the ballroom—that kind of uncontrollable, raw emotion will be the end of you one day. And soon, if you aren't more careful."

"Why did you want to dance with me?" Cedric asked bitterly, pulling his hand away slightly and leaving it hovered over her waist. He loosened their entwined fingers. Matilda seemed satisfied to have his full attention.

"I wanted to know the man Theophilus deemed worthy of saving." She muttered. "I am quite surprised, really. You have power, I won't deny that—I can feel it—but you're hesitant. You're at war with yourself on the inside. You are unstable."

"You don't know me." Cedric snarled at the woman, almost surprised at the strength in his own voice. He wasn't stuttering.

She did not understand. Being beautiful, being perfect and probably wanted by everyone—how could she possibly comprehend the feelings bubbling inside of him? Cedric was tired of everyone picking on him for every little thing. He was tired of _people_ in general. Except for Sofia.

"You're right—and I don't _want_ to." Matilda frowned. A solid minute passed in silence, Cedric glaring daggers at the woman swaying gracefully before him, attempting to control the flames begging to escape his rigid palms. Matilda didn't seem to be having much trouble controlling her own emotions—in fact, she almost appeared as if she were actually enjoying herself.

Cedric felt like a child having been scolded by an adult—humiliated, wanting to crawl into a hole somewhere and wallow in his embarrassment. He knew she was right; he was an emotional person, angry and pent-up inside to the point of bursting. People at all times in Cedric's life, especially Goodwin, had always warned the sorcerer to be wary of his fury. Despite this, Cedric knew he was a lot of things—rage-filled, sorrowful, malicious—but one thing he had never been no matter how hard he tried was controlled.

Sure, he could make meticulous potions. He could put together his own detailed and carefully-worded spells. Cedric could spend hours standing at a boiling hot cauldron, making an exceedingly difficult enchantment in only a single night. He could go a couple days without sleep or handle getting laughed at on the streets by the village kids recalling the time he'd accidentally transformed their school roof into jelly instead of fixing the hole left after that damned griffin attempted to nest there.

But no matter what he did, Cedric just couldn't control himself.

"You wouldn't be the first." Cedric muttered. It was one of the truest things he'd ever admitted to anyone besides Sofia. People avoided him like the plague. Even King Rolland II had never made any solid attempts to actually _get to know_ Cedric. Even Goodwin the Great, famous sorcerer known throughout the lands for his feats, hadn't been mindful enough to try breaking past his own son's thick emotional barriers.

"But if I _did_ want to get to know you," Matilda's eyes were on him again, focused and striking. "Would you let me?"

The word left his mouth before he could even react—"No."

She made a face as if she'd just proven a point. Cedric sighed, fingers cooling, eyes dropping to the floor. Perhaps he looked pathetic, for Matilda chuckled and attempted to console the worn sorcerer with her eyes. Again he was left feeling like a child in the face of an adult.

"You are confused, young man." Matilda smiled gently. "You want people to get to know you, and yet you will not let them. I sense a jumbled mess inside of you—it can be fixed, yes, but only by you."

"I've made some progress," Cedric offered, again glancing at Sofia as she danced with Dolphus. His hands heated up again instinctively.

"Did you make the progress yourself, or did someone else force it out of you?" Matilda bit her lip, also eying Sofia.

"I…" Cedric murmured, distracted by the way the Enchancian princess's dress swayed just right under the ballroom lights. "I don't know."

After Matilda never responded, Cedric forced himself to rip his eyes away from Sofia. The woman's face was forlorn, staring off at where Sofia and Dolphus danced slowly. Matilda's mouth hung open slightly, eyes wide and watching carefully.

"I haven't seen him look so peaceful in a long, long time." she said softly.

"Who—Dolphus?" Cedric looked again to where his princess was moving with said mage, an oblivious smile on her face, big blue eyes wide and innocent. Dolphus looked awkward, but his lips were moving and he seemed overall less tense than usual. The royal sorcerer found himself dismayed to realize that, in all honestly, Dolphus was quite a handsome man. Cedric looked to the man's face, searching for… something. A flaw, really—any flaw.

 _Something. Give me something._

 _Something to hate._

Matilda hissed, ripping her body from Cedric's grasp and rubbing her side frantically. Cedric gasped, realizing his mistake far too late and watching the woman hunch over, palm red and dress burnt through at the waist, singed flesh exposed. The sorcerer quickly pulled extinguished his palms. He hovered his hands over her, not wanting to make anymore contact but wishing he could help.

"I-I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—!" Cedric stuttered, watching as Theophilus rushed over, his large hands reaching to heal Matilda's fresh wounds.

"It's okay, it's okay!" the canine muttered, though it was unclear if he was talking to Matilda or Cedric. Theophilus had already begun healing the mage's burns, and she seemed to have calmed down already.

"Cedric!" Sofia appeared at his side, blue eyes worried.

"What happened?" Dolphus trotted up, face once again tense and stern. His eyes flickered back and forth among them, attempting to piece together clues. Orville and Gertrude had come as well, eyes worriedly watching Theophilus over Matilda.

The guilt was racking up within Cedric. He watched every time one of their eyes flickered to him, slowly stepping back. Sofia was asking him what had happened, but he couldn't form words. Cedric turned away from them. He turned away from them and did the only thing he knew how to do—run.

Cedric ran out of the ballroom, and he didn't stop until he was in his room. Immediately he was shedding himself of the stuffy suit, ripping the damned thing off piece by piece and searching for his usual clothes. Tears threatened to spill.

 _Coward._

 _You're a coward, Cedric._

But that was all he knew. That was the only thing he'd ever known to work. Every time he tried to stay, to make things right and fix his mistakes, he only made things worse. When he was young, running was _okay._ In fact, many people preferred it.

 _"Just go, Cedric. I'll fix this."_ Goodwin used to say with a heavy sigh, begrudgingly moving to push Cedric away and towards whatever spell or enchantment the young boy had ruined.

But as he got older, he was suddenly expected not to run. Cedric was expected to stay, to right his wrongs. He couldn't, though, when running was all he'd ever known.

* * *

Sofia left the ballroom only when she was sure that Matilda was alright and that everything was okay.

The princess found Cedric sitting on the edge of the bed, curled in a ball with his back facing the door. She called his name, but he didn't respond. She approached him slowly, gingerly standing beside him and staring down at his worn face, droopy eyes and exhausted expression. Reaching out, Sofia gingerly touched him.

"No," Cedric pulled away, moving to the other side of the bed. "Sofia, don't. I-I don't want to—"

"Cedric, don't be silly." Sofia climbed upon the bed, moving until she had trapped the sorcerer between herself and the headboard.

"Silly? Did you _see_ what I did!?" Cedric attempted to back further away from the woman's face to no avail.

"You wouldn't do that to me." Sofia whispered, hands grasping the sorcerer's stiff arms and pulling them around her, forcing her way into the man's lap. Cedric fell rigid, hovering his hands over her, eyes shut tight. "Come on, Cedric." Sofia coaxed him with her sweet voice, fingers finding their way to the sorcerer's face. She felt the curves of his face, his jaw and cheekbones and nose and, lastly, his lips.

Cedric jumped when he felt her lips ghosting over his own, like a wounded animal afraid of any and all contact. Sofia pushed further, kissing him softly, her fingers finding their way into his two-toned hair. At first he didn't respond, body rigid and shock pulsing hot through his veins. Slowly as her lips moved against his, soft and warm and inviting, Cedric found himself relaxing, responding to the kiss. His hands gradually moved to touch her, to feel her silky hair between his fingers and porcelain skin in his palms.

Sofia moved closer, pressing her body up against Cedric's. She roughly ran her hand through his hair, wrapping her other hand around his neck. The sorcerer couldn't help the groan he released, and the princess took the opportunity to plunge her tongue into his mouth. It was sudden, and certainly improper for a princess, but she was past the point of caring.

Cedric's hands slowly trailed down, eventually stopping to grasp at Sofia's waist. She was wiggling just a little _too_ much in his lap. The sorcerer's head was spinning, adrenaline pumping through his system.

How long had he longed to be with her like this?

It passed through his mind that it was wrong, that they were of different ranks and different ages and his head would most likely be on a platter in front of the king but _damn,_ did it feel so right.

Cedric suddenly gasped when he felt Sofia reaching lower, pulling his lips away and quickly moving to grasp her wrists.

"No—Sofia, no, we can't." he looked to her face, eyes tired and sad and pleading. He gently pulled her up and off of him.

"Please?" she looked to him with those eyes, demanding, pulling him into wanting to comply.

"No, I—" he sighed as he finished catching his breath. He could still taste her on his tongue, and it was distracting. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"You don't know that. And—and what if… what if you get—ah, you know…"

"Preg— "

"Yes, _yes_ , that!" he put his hands up as if afraid to hear the word itself, causing Sofia to giggle. He went on, "You're supposed to wait until marriage for that sort of thing."

"You're supposed to wait until marriage to share a bed too, but we've already done it." Sofia chuckled, crossing her arms.

"Yes, well, that…" Cedric's face flushed, and he avoided eye contact. "That's… different."

Sofia leaned forward again, pulling the sorcerer into a hug. "I love you, you know. I always have and I always will." She whispered against his chest.

"That's the problem…" Cedric sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms around his princess and resting his chin atop her head.

"It's not your fault for hurting her, Cedric." Sofia murmured. "She's so much older—she knew what she was doing. She knew that you were unstable, and she still decided to do what she did. It isn't your fault."

"But it is my fault, Sofia." Cedric gave her hair a light kiss. "I'm the uncontrolled one."

"You will learn, give it time." Sofia looked up, smiling. Her eyes made him feel warm inside.


	12. Chapter 12

OKAY GUYS, so I've been obsessed with Star Wars recently and seriously, look up Ferus Olin! HE LOOKS LIKE CEDRIC.

Anyway, sorry, back to the story…

* * *

Theophilus sighed from where he sat on the dimmed ballroom floor. Matilda stood and dusted herself off, skin freshly healed. Godric looked indifferent, but Gertrude and Orville both had looks of disbelief on their faces.

"I don't know why you didn't let him die, Theophilus." Matilda ran a hand through her silken locks. "All these years I thought I knew you, but you've changed. I don't know what's going through that tiny canine brain of yours, but it needs to stop—and _now._ "

"Don't lecture me," the dog murmured, pulling his legs towards his body. "He's got promise. You didn't feel his power?"

"I did," Matilda allowed. If anyone had experience with men, it was her. "But he doesn't know how to harness it. He's a wreck inside. He's untrained, emotional, and thus absolutely hopeless."

"I've been working on his emotions, trying to desensitize him." Godric offered. "In fact, he just recently took down a winter wolf by himself."

"Theophilus," Orville whispered, resting a hand on the mage's shoulder. "I believe in you, I do. But do you _really_ think that teaching him wandless magic is such a good idea? If we're not careful, we may have a potential disaster on our hands."

"I told you already before the ball not to harass me about this." Theophilus shook Orville's hand from his form. "I know what I'm doing."

"Obviously you don't, otherwise you would've let him die." Matilda snapped.

"I've been trying to tell him this since the beginning!" Dolphus groaned exasperatedly, flinging his arms forward.

"Yeah, Dolphus was right about this." Gertrude murmured, eyes worried as she approached the canine's back. "What happened to you, Theo? You used to be the most level-headed of all of us, but you've changed as of recent. I'm almost inclined to think you're a different person."

 _I'm trying to be._ The dog thought bitterly.

"Not only has he taught an unstable, unfit sorcerer wandless magic," Dolphus pointed accusingly towards the canine, "but he has brought an extra woman along, and forced us to mess with the natural flow by taking out all of the Izuvellian soldiers in the area."

"Hey, hey, let's not all gang up on the poor guy now." Godric raised a hand to direct everyone's attention to himself. "Theophilus did what he thought was the right thing to do. It's too late now to argue. Besides, what do we have as a group if we don't have trust? Let us leave the subject for now and have faith in our companion here." Godric gave another one of his odd wide smiles, patting Theophilus on the back.

Orville sighed, stepping forward. "I trust Theophilus with my life, Godric, I do. I do not, however, trust his judgment right now. The risks are just too big here."

"There is no risk." Theophilus snapped, an inhuman growl escaping his lips, standing from the floor and turning to leave. "If things get out of hand, I will take care of the sorcerer myself."

* * *

King Roland II did not look good.

Even the fairly new workers had noticed the drawn-out look upon the man's face, wrinkles prominent and dark bags deep under droopy eyes. Baileywick, while normally allowing the king his privacy and own verdict over the castle's situations, had recently been a little less relenting and became pushier towards the king. The steward saw the man deteriorating before him, saw that his judgment was impaired and that the usual strong regal stride wavered strangely.

It had been almost a week since Princess Sofia had been rendered missing from her room, gone off in search of their royal sorcerer. It was a harsh blow to the royal family, eliciting panic from the queen and guilt from the king. Even the collected twins' dispositions were quickly beginning to worsen. The guards hardly ever got a break, searching persistently for the missing princess and sorcerer.

Goodwin and Winifred weren't any better off. They searched alongside the king's men, studied their son's workshop for clues, tried spell after spell in attempts to figure out what exactly had occurred that bizarre night.

Sofia had already been questioned about it before her sudden absence. The princess had seen Cedric the following evening before his disappearance, where he had admitted to making the mess. It was evident, however, that she was unsure of whether or not the sorcerer she spoke to that night was the real Cedric. In the end, Sofia's side of the story didn't change much as to what happened or where the royal sorcerer's whereabouts were.

The Izuvellian soldiers had suddenly vanished not long after Sofia's unexpected departure, leading Rolland to make the decision of risking battle and sending his guards searching just beyond the outskirts of Enchancia, but not _too_ far. To think that Sofia could've gone past the border made the king sick—so much so that he did not share that information with the rest of the royal family in fear of causing too much distress. A part of him said that Sofia would never leave Enchancia alone, and another argued that she would if it involved Cedric.

Almost exactly a week since Sofia's leave, Rolland was informed of a man attempting to get into Enchancia who claimed to be an Izuvellian soldier. The man, dressed in rich gold and red with a few light pieces of armor coating his chest and arms, was escorted to the castle upon the king's request, where he was brought before Rolland surrounded by an assortment of guards.

"Why have you come here?" Rolland attempted to keep his composure, proud of himself for the intimidating vibe in his voice despite his inner turmoil.

"I've come at the demand of my king, sire." The man bowed, gracious despite his obvious nervousness.

"And what is it your king demands?" Rolland's irritation was hot in his voice. He wanted to scoff at the Izuvellian king for coming to _his_ kingdom and demanding _his_ attention.

"He is angry, your majesty. Our troops were slaughtered to the East of here, you see…"

"And what does that have to do with Enchancia?"

"It was by your royal sorcerer, sire."

" _What?"_ Rolland asked in astonishment, rising from his throne. There was no way Cedric had wiped out a whole horde of soldiers— _no way_! The thought almost made Rolland want to laugh. When the soldier did not speak, Rolland finally found is voice. "And what exactly makes you think our royal sorcerer massacred your troops?"

"There was a lone survivor from the ordeal who claimed that the man responsible was a certain 'Cedric the Sensational—royal sorcerer of Enchancia'. Our king is very upset. He has sent me to warn you—"

"Warn me…?" Rolland II echoed, still attempting to comprehend the new information. Baileywick stood off to the side, the shock clear on his face. It just didn't seem possible.

 _Cedric_ , of all people!

The royal sorcerer had never been good at being evil, which was the main reason Rolland allowed the man to remain by his side for so long. Sure, Cedric had a mean streak in him, but it had never grown to become anything worrisome. In fact, the sorcerer's antics could be quite amusing. That being said, if Rolland had ever thought that the man was a threat to the kingdom or his family he would've had Cedric removed immediately. But he didn't.

Rolland didn't _expect_ it, and that was what made the prospect so much more terrifying.

The soldier nodded, obviously confused at the king's reaction. "Yes, warn you. He wanted to be generous, considering your defense is much less sophisticated than ours"—the offense was clear on Rolland's face at this remark—"and let you know beforehand that we are heading to the area tonight. We will find your sorcerer, and we will kill him."

* * *

"Signal the sirens! Rally the troops! Faster, faster—move _faster,_ damn it!"

There was no way in hell Rolland was going to let those Izuvellian dolts get to _his_ royal sorcerer first. It wasn't even Cedric that Rolland was particularly worried about—it was Sofia. The king moved hastily through the corridors of the castle, followed by rows of guards. All soldiers had been called upon, most to stay guard and keep Enchancia safe and the others to head to the border with Rolland.

The Thallusai mountains—why didn't they check there? Why didn't he think of sending his men out further beyond the border before things had escalated?

"Rolly? Rolly, what's going on?" Miranda ran to him from their room, eyes tired and red. "Why are the sirens going off—are we under attack?"

"No…" Rolland hugged his wife, but kept at a steady pace towards the front of the castle. The woman attempted to keep up with him, holding her dress up and huffing as she did so. Rolland stopped momentarily to place his hands on her shoulders. "Please, Miranda… I need you to stay here. I will be back, I promise."

He continued again down the hall, Miranda calling after him but remaining still as he'd asked. "Rolland! What are you doing?"

"I'm getting our daughter back." He responded sternly, furthering their distance and turning a corner as quickly as he could. The king loved his wife dearly, and he couldn't stand seeing her in such pain.

A flying carriage was waiting at the front gate, and Rolland flung himself in without a second thought. Thaddeus, commanding officer of the guards, was already seated in the carriage. The man handed Rolland a few pieces of armor, lips curled in a small smile.

"Here—I knew you'd be too rushed to put on some armor, so I brought some with me." Thaddeus chuckled with the shake of his head as Rolland took the chest plate from his outstretched hand, pulling the heavy garment over his body.

"I'm more worried about getting to Sofia and Cedric in time." Rolland admitted with a sigh. "I hope she's safe."

"I'm sorry sire, but our number one priority right now is to keep _you_ safe. Remember, this could very easily be a ploy to get you out in the open—and across the border, surrounded by only a few men. In fact, I'm almost sure that's exactly what this is." Thaddeus had that worried look on his face, one that Rolland knew well.

The brown-haired male had been born to a pair of sorcerers, but rejected the whole idea of performing magic. No matter what his parents tried, Thaddeus had always felt more comfortable holding a sword than a wand. Eventually his parents gave up and allowed the stubborn young man to pursue his love in all things battle-related, and Rolland found him so good he was appointed to a new position.

It was a bold move on Rolland's part—before, the king had always been considered the sole controller over all of his soldiers. However, Rolland realized that he could not have enough time to properly command each and every one of his men, and so a new arrangement was needed. The king saw Thaddeus had the skills and the expertise, and so the man was the first in line to appoint the new role of 'commanding officer'.

Thaddeus was only ten years Rolland's junior, yet had no wife or children to claim. Many questioned the man's sexuality, though there was only ever speculation. Some thought that perhaps the soldier didn't want to marry for fear of dying in battle and leaving behind a heartbroken widow and offspring. The king couldn't say he knew what Thaddeus's true motives were behind his phobia of women, nor did he care. As long as the man did his job well, there was no need to dig further.

"Nonetheless, I must go. I must find out if everything that Izuvellian man said was true." Rolland said, stroking his beard as he stared out among the beautiful Enchancian landscapes blurring by.

"Of Cedric being a murderer?" Thaddeus almost scoffed. "My apologies sire, but I don't think I've ever seen the sorcerer _hurt_ someone, much less kill."

"But he has the incentive, don't you agree?" the king asked, hope in his eyes.

"Oh, he's always had the incentive." Thaddeus granted with a nod. "The man's always had a particularly dark side to him. That being said, incentive leaves no means to action. His mind may be capable but his magic is not. That is why, you see, I believe this is all a ploy."

"It's not only the killing part, Thaddeus. The messenger did say more."

"And that was?" Thaddeus turned to completely face the king, his face intrigued.

"That Cedric was using a different kind of magic… one that doesn't seem to appear in any of the books." Rolland murmured, his eyes narrowing as he searched through the thick glass of the carriage as if looking for answers.

Thaddeus's mouth opened, but only a choked noise escaped. It was obvious he was unsure what to say, his mind still attempting to process the words spoken to him. "My king," he sputtered, "this—this is lunacy! There is _no_ way any of this is true."

"Is that so?" Rolland's lips curled into a half-smile, but no joy reached his eyes. He knew.

The man was desperate, clawing at any clues or tips he could, grasping onto what tiny bits and pieces he had left of his kingdom's safety and his daughter's whereabouts. They had nothing left to hope for. Their only sorcerer had up and vanished. Their royal family was falling apart. Their army was good, but not good enough. The king was so lost that he was resorting to his basic childhood teachings. Thaddeus saw not a seasoned royal before him more than he saw a scared little boy. Rolland was doing the only thing left that he knew—hope.

"Sire, please," Thaddeus searched the other's eyes, pleading. "Please, you can't seriously expect to find what you're looking for there. We have to turn back while we still can."

"We will do no such thing."

"Bu—you can't do this! You're risking not only one of your few commanding officers and some of the best men, but your _own_ life here! The kingdom will collapse without you, we can't—"

"The kingdom is collapsing _with_ me, Thaddeus!" Rolland snapped, composure slipping and eyes watering as he stared at the soldier. Thaddeus was taken aback at the despair sewn so deeply within the king's usually calm irises. Rolland slipped a hand through his sticky hair, face already slicked with sweat from the anxiety alone. "I'm sorry," Rolland whispered, teeth grit pathetically.

Thaddeus fell back against his seat in silence. He'd never seen the king so open and raw, never seen the man break even a little bit. And now—well, now the man was shattered and the pieces were littering the damned floor. "What about Cedric's parents?" Thaddeus whispered after several minutes in silence, attempting to change the subject.

"I have informed them of my destination." Rolland murmured half-heartedly. "Goodwin and Winifred are to stay in the castle and protect Miranda and the twins should anything happen to me."

It went without saying that Thaddeus did not approve. The soldier sighed heavily, turning away from the king and looking out the window of the carriage. He knew there was nothing left to deter the other man from his current path. Rolland would go to hell and back for his kingdom, and so Thaddeus vowed do the same.

* * *

Cedric was aware of the eyes on him; the other mages had not stopped in their staring since the ball's events just the other day. The whole castle was filled with tension thick enough to have the sorcerer's head swimming. Godric had continued to teach him, but Theophilus spent most of his time out doing _who-knows-what_ while Cedric was left to deal with the incessant stares alone. Matilda and Dolphus were especially scrutinizing, watching the sorcerer's every move as if waiting for any excuse to jump up and chop his head right off.

It was hard to focus. Godric was speaking, he was making gestures with his hands and stroking his goatee every once in a while but the mage's voice was droning in and out of Cedric's conscience. The sorcerer couldn't help but think of Enchancia—of his and Sofia's homeland, just wanting to return and keep it safe from harm and live out the rest of his life with his princess. Of course the possibility of that actually happening was slimmer than a mouse's tail, but it felt nice to daydream.

The reality of the situation was grim, and Cedric often tried to push the circumstances out of his head. Knowing what he now knew and harnessing the magic he now possessed, it would be a miracle if the mages let him leave at all. And even if they did, Cedric knew there wouldn't be much left to hope for in Enchancia. He could never be with Sofia as he longed, and the thought of watching her be swept away by some aristocratic prince with the latest leather shoes and silk bed sheets made Cedric want to burn the entire forest to the ground.

"Cedric," Godric's voice snapped the sorcerer out of his thoughts, "Cedric, you're burning the table."

"Wh— _oh_ ," Cedric looked down to realize that he was, in fact, smoldering the dark oaken table. Hastily retracting his hands, the sorcerer apologized upon recognizing two black handprints burnt into the wood. Godric studied him intensely.

"Distracted today, are we?" the mage murmured, eyes searching Cedric's as if looking for something specific.

"You would be too, in my situation." Cedric said pointedly. "Almost everyone in this castle wants to murder me in some way."

"Oh, come now." The corner's of Godric's lips curved upwards, "Theophilus would never let them harm you."

"Sometimes I think Theophilus might harm me _himself_." Cedric muttered despondently.

Godric's only reaction was the slight twitch of his mouth. The mage inattentively ran his fingers through the pages of their current book, before going on, "If you do not have trust, you have nothing."

"That's funny," Cedric crinkled his nose, tone sarcastic and bitter, "I thought you mages would agree that trust is dangerous."

"We do," Godric murmured, "and that is why we have nothing."

Cedric almost laughed. The mages had power and knowledge galore, could live forever and contact worlds no one else knew about. If that was nothing, the sorcerer was curious to know what _something_ was.

But then, the more Cedric thought about it, there seemed to be some truth ringing in those words. There was no use in power and knowledge when you had no one to share it with. No relationships worked without trust—not lovers, not friends, not families, not even comrades out on the battlefield. And yet, trust was risky. To allow belief in someone else was to allow fault within yourself. To open yourself up to someone, to confide in anyone wholly, you allowed them a chance to destroy you.

The only one Cedric could think of that he truly trusted was Sofia, and without her he didn't think he would be able to move on. In loving her, he blossomed. And still, in loving her, he gave her the open ability to demolish him. In giving himself to her, Cedric gave Sofia the opportunity to devastate him. It was an equal payout—but not one necessary to the mages, perhaps. Relationships were risky business; feelings were precarious. Maybe Godric was not just attempting to make Cedric feel better with his own cynical nature. Suppose Godric was being _honest._

Godric was admitting a weakness.

"I never thought of it that way," Cedric admitted with the downward tilt of his chin. "I thought… I-I don't know what I thought, I guess."

"The others don't _want_ to kill you, Cedric." Godric twisted the book's tight leather binding beneath his fingers absentmindedly. "None of us _enjoy_ killing, mind you. We've simply developed to the point of being used to having to do it. You have to understand that we've all been strictly trained to be devoid of attachment to the outside world, for it allows weaknesses that we cannot risk. And here you come waltzing in, a fresh youth with every emotion unsullied and intact and utterly _overwhelming_ ; the others see you as a walking disaster waiting to happen—a threat."

"Hah! If only the king could see me now—an actual _threat_ , and to the most powerful mages in the world of all people!" Cedric laughed, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Is that so surprising?"

"Well, yes..." Cedric felt the embarrassment creeping up on him, heating his cheeks. "I am not exactly a sorcerer known throughout the kingdom for his powers or strength, you see..."

"Hm," Godric almost wanted to push further, but decided against it at the uncomfortable look on the other's face. "Well, I don't suppose we can get on with the lesson now? Or do you have any other distractions hidden in that young mind of yours?"

Cedric snorted at the mage calling him young—despite Godric being centuries old, his physical appearance couldn't have been much older than Cedric himself. "Distracted?" Cedric quipped, "Who's distracted?"

"You," Godric attempted to seem stern, but the amusement was clear in his eyes. "Fall any harder for that girl and you'll crack your head on the marble flooring." He shook his head, a mirthful smile breaking out upon his lips.

"What—?" the surprise was clear in Cedric's face, hands falling limp from the table.

"It radiates from you like a beacon." The mage snorted, head falling to rest in his right hand. "In fact, I think Sofia is better at hiding it than you are."

"What are you talking about?" Cedric crossed his arms, silently cursing himself for the blush that fell hot upon his cheeks. He looked down to his pale wrists folded against his chest and felt a pang of shame course through him. _How could she be attracted to someone with such pasty skin?_

"You have feelings for each other."

"How would you know?" the sorcerer retorted, clearly aggravated but attempting to keep his cool—literally. "And even if that were true, it's none of your business."

"Well it _is_ my business, considering it's affecting your ability to learn and my ability to teach." Godric deadpanned. "It's okay to love someone, Cedric, but allowing your emotions to get the best of you and take away your capacity to intake knowledge is not. You must learn to let those harmful feelings go."

"Then don't teach me!" Cedric snapped, pushing himself up from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. He regretted it almost immediately. Quickly moving away from the table, the sorcerer stood looking through the see-through walls, out to the slightly charred forest. Another pang of guilt ran through his body. Cedric thought briefly of the destruction he held now within the palm of his hands. Just a few years ago, he knew he would've burned down the whole kingdom with such a power. Who would've guessed he would eventually attempt to do the exact opposite—that he would attempt to _save_ all those who'd mocked and ridiculed him for years on end?

"Cedric," the mage's voice was low, solemn, "Come here." He patted the chair right beside him.

"Why should I?" Cedric whispered against the cool of the wall.

"I'm trying to help you," Godric stated, "I know how strongly you feel for Sofia—for your kingdom. I can _feel_ it—"

"How!?" Cedric turned abruptly to face the mage, eyes heated and teeth bare. "You keep saying you _feel_ this and you _feel_ that, but I don't even know what that means! I don't know what any of this means!" The sorcerer lent forward, weakly slamming his fists against the wall, sliding to his knees. He was shaking, attempting to keep his anger within him.

"Everyone emits feelings, Cedric." Godric stood soberly. "It's up to us whether or not we wish to concern ourselves with the worries of others—and most choose not to, whether or not they realize they've made that choice."

Cedric didn't respond. He felt it rising up within him, bubbling and popping like a boiling cauldron, curling hot and ready to strike in the pit of his stomach. He was torn apart, torn between his old self and his new self. The sorcerer knew he had it in him, hidden just beneath the skin, ready to resurface. He knew he could be the old Cedric, the wicked Cedric. The anger, the resentment, the mocking looks and wanting _so badly_ to wipe out those who'd ever wronged him—it was still there, waiting for an opportunity to rise again. Cedric fought back with all he had left, grasping for something, anything to keep the immoral old Cedric at bay.

"Come now," Godric's voice was louder than usual, more serious than usual. "Let's move on"—the mage slammed the book they had been studying closed, sliding it to the opposite end of the table—"how about wandless healing?"

* * *

Cedric never knew he could feel so passionate.

For his whole life, the sorcerer had never truly _loved_ anyone, woman or man. He held love for his parents, though they could be harsh, and he had love for Wormwood, but never had he felt anything as he did lying with Sofia on his chest. It was late evening, but there was nowhere Cedric would rather be than with his princess. Guilt still ran through his veins, coarse and stinging, but the bliss outweighed it by tenfold.

"Cedric?" she hummed beneath him, dainty fingers tracing soothing patterns over his clothed chest.

"Hm?" Cedric responded, eyes closed in contentment.

"Are we courting now?" Sofia raised her head to look up at him, and he opened an eye to meet her gaze.

"I suppose," Cedirc murmured through pursed lips, brows furrowed in thought. The prospect made him feel delighted, excited and uneasy all at the same time. He'd never officially courted before, despite what few little flings he'd had in his years of schooling.

Finding attraction towards others had always been hard for Cedric. Before Sofia, he'd never fully learned to trust anyone. It was hard to see physical appeal in people when it was they who were usually the reason for his pain and distress in the first place. He couldn't bring himself to fully invest in another; not when he knew already the pain they could cause. Even at a young age, he knew he didn't want that. He knew that he couldn't risk his heart being broken any more.

"Do you intend to marry me?" Sofia's eyes were intense, lips quirked into a playful smile.

"I'd be a fool not to, love." Cedric couldn't help but give a crooked smile in return, earning himself a tender kiss from the princess.

She carefully studied his features before running her fingers through his two-toned hair. "I hope our children have your hair."

"Like hell!" Cedric chuckled, cheeks heating. "Do you know how much grief this hair has put me through? Every year the new students would mistake me for a teacher!"

The thought of having children made Cedric's stomach twist in a mix of excitement and fear. And not only his children, but _Sofia's_ as well. The whole process felt surreal in the sorcerer's mind. People had often joked to Cedric his whole life that he would never have an heir to claim—that no woman would be sane or stupid enough to bear _his_ child. It had hurt him to the very core, but Cedric knew it to ring with truth. Little by little, as his pride ebbed away, Cedric had begun to accept it. That was until now, until he had Sofia in his arms, a beautiful woman with the kindest heart and the most mesmerizing big blue eyes, that Cedric felt his shattered worth begin to piece itself back together again.

"That's only because you look so refined and wise." Sofia retorted, hand moving to run down the sorcerer's face.

"That's only another way of saying I look _old._ " Cedric snorted. "It was annoying, let me tell you. It was always 'Mr., do you know where the gymnasium is?' and 'Sir, where is the wand room?' Sometimes I'd direct them towards the magical broom closet just to teach them a lesson!"

"Cedric!" Sofia scolded, though her laughter betrayed her. She lightly slapped his chest, rolling onto her back next to him on the large bed. The sorcerer's hand snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. He buried his face in her hair, taking in the familiar scent with a deep breath.

"I don't understand, really…" Cedric whispered into Sofia's ear, "…what you find in a man like me." He held tighter, as if expecting her to vanish any second. Sofia pulled away to look at him, propping herself up on one elbow. He stared back with weary eyes, lips bent into a deep frown.

"Well, let's see…" Sofia smiled gently, moving her fingers to trace the outline of his jaw. "I love your handsome face, and your very unique, distinct hair"— she swept her hand through his black and white locks in emphasis—"and I love the way you try to your hardest on everything, even if you know no one will appreciate it. I love the confident way you strut when you're in a good mood, and the utter love you show for Wormwood, and the dedication you have for magic. I love that you never give up, even if everyone tells you to. I love every spectacular mistake, every sarcastic remark. I love the enthusiasm you show to teach me everything you know, and I love…" Sofia leant down, kissing Cedric with a passionate fire. "…this." She whispered against his lips.

Cedric felt silly for trembling against her touch, but his body wouldn't listen. She pressed her lips down upon his once again, and he had no willpower left to resist. Sofia shifted, swinging her leg over him to sit herself in the sorcerer's lap, keeping their kiss unbroken in the process. Cedric's hand rose, gingerly touching the sides of the princess's body, lovingly running his hands through her hair. He'd held flames in the palm of his hands numerous times as of recent, but never had he felt such heat inside his body.

Sofia eventually got him loose of his sorcery robe, although even that was a difficult feat. They altered their position, Cedric moving slowly to lay the princess under him, making sure to hold himself a few inches above her so as not to crush the smaller body beneath him. He was so lost in her kisses that he didn't realize she was unbuttoning his vest and shirt until he felt the cool air hitting his chest.

He was going to protest, lifting a gloved hand to stop her ministrations, but they both froze upon the sudden screams and shouts that erupted from elsewhere in the castle. Sofia immediately jumped up, crawling off of the bed. Cedric did the same, buttoning up his shirt and vest as fast as he could. His yellow bowtie was on the floor, but he chose to abandon it, reaching for his robe and moving in front of Sofia, slowly opening their door.

"Stay behind me," Cedric murmured, placing a hand over Sofia protectively as he peeked into the hallway.

An abrupt explosion from right outside their room made the couple jump, Cedric moving to pull Sofia into his body. From their transparent walls Cedric could see large masses of dirt breaking off of the mountain, fiery clumps of earth spattering to the ground loudly. Cedric squinted his eyes, spying little moving figures circling the mountain. He was rendered speechless upon realizing that they were soldiers.

"Cedric," Godric's breathless voice echoed as he sprinted to their doorway. The mage's eyes showed concern, and his shoulders visibly relaxed upon seeing the two standing unscathed right in the room.

"What's going on?" Cedric still had his hand over Sofia.

"We're being attacked"—another loud explosion erupted from the other side of the castle, shaking the room—"We need to leave, _now._ "

Cedric followed as Godric turned and began hurrying down the hall. They stopped momentarily to retrieve Minimus and Wormwood, yanking the terrified animals from where they'd made a home in one of the castle's many empty guest rooms. The sorcerer entwined his fingers with Sofia's, pulling her along as they made their way into the throne room. The other mages were there, arguing and very obviously distressed. Dolphus was pacing the room restlessly, his eyes fixing on Cedric as they arrived. The sorcerer was taken aback at the hatred and blame in the mage's eyes.

"You," Dolphus seethed, heatedly pointing a finger at Cedric, "This is _your_ fault."

"Dolphus," Theophilus barked gruffly, "This is no less his fault than it is any of ours."

"We had no business with the Izuvellians!" Dolphus snapped.

"Well we do now," Orville sighed, stroking his beard with exhausted eyes.

"What are we going to do?" Gertrude murmured solemnly from where she stood with Matilda.

"We must flee." Theophilus's eyes flickered with an emotion Cedric didn't recognize. "We will collapse the entrances." The canine quickly began moving towards the main entrance, gesturing for the others to follow and help. "Gertrude, Matilda and Orville can continue their studies elsewhere. Godric, I'd like you to stay close and make sure they don't get into the castle—if they do, destroy everything. We can't risk any of our information being found. Dolphus and I will take Sofia and Cedric to find Bernadette."

Dolphus groaned, but otherwise complied. The mages destroyed the main entrance, caving in the earth above it. The group quickly moved through the castle, obliterating each possible entranceway. Cedric hadn't known about any of the castle's other doors besides the one through the Burgsmania tree, and found himself fascinated to learn of each and every secret doorway and tunnel. Finally they found themselves in the ballroom, where they demolished the balcony and headed to the last door leading outside.

Cedric felt a hand grip his shoulder tightly before they reached the last door. He was yanked back, away from the others and Sofia, yelping in surprise when he was forced to turn and face Godric. The mage's eyes were unreadable. He held a hand out to Cedric, dropping a small vial in the sorcerer's palm.

"What is this?" Cedric questioned, turning the little glass tube around in his fingers.

"Well you didn't kill a winter wolf for nothing," Godric chuckled emptily. "It's the bisected transmutation spell. Use it in case of an emergency."

Cedric felt his blood go cold. Never had he thought he would be so scared of something so tiny. Looking down to the vial, he couldn't imagine that all of the work, all of the horrible ingredients that were required, could produce a spell so small in amount and yet so potent in power. Godric began to pull the stunned sorcerer towards where the others stood waiting, Sofia worriedly looking back and forth between the mages and Cedric. The Enchancian sorcerer quickly composed himself, stuffing the vial in the inner pocket on his robe before they rejoined the group.

Godric stopped just inside the doorway while the others exited, looking passive as always. In his eyes, however, Cedric thought he saw something else—fear? Sorrow? Worry?

"I trust you'll take care of the situation, Godric." Theophilus nodded once to the other mage.

"Of course. Just leave it to me, Theo." Godric said, raising his arms to begin collapsing the soil above the doorway. "Just focus on getting Cedric and Sofia out of here." The mage gave a small smile to the couple. A few strands of stray dirt began to fall, the door frame squeaking and moaning beneath the pressure.

Theophilus stood paused for a moment, staring at his companion with a look of mixed emotions. Finally, as the explosions and sounds of men yelling began to close in on them, the canine snapped out of it. "I will," he said, before raising his arms and aiding in the destruction of the castle's last exit.

* * *

The Thallusai mountains weren't quite fully in view when the first explosion erupted, causing Rolland to jump up in the cramped carriage and Thaddeus to quickly pull the king back down, positioning himself over the older man protectively. More blasts soon went off, scaring the Pegasi and lighting the evening sky. Thaddeus opened the carriage window, sticking his head out with a hushed curse.

"Are we being attacked?" the commander asked a knight flying on a whining Pegasus nearby.

"No, sir." The knight answered with the shake of his armored head. "It appears they're coming from the mountain."

Rolland made an effort to bounce up once again, struggling against Thaddeus. "Faster, we must move faster!" the king called hastily to the carriage driver, "We _have_ to reach Sofia in time!"

"Calm down please, my king!" Thaddeus held the man's torso firmly. "If we go rushing into this all willy-nilly we'll end up getting ourselves killed!"

They were quickly nearing the mountain, and Rolland continued his struggling restlessly. "Let go of me, Thaddeus. I could have you killed for this I hope you know." He growled between grit teeth, but the knight knew better of his king. Rolland had trouble punishing thieves and prisoners of war for Christ's sake; there was no way he would ever harm his best-ranked soldier.

"Not until you calm down," Thaddeus responded defiantly.

"Is that a challenge, Commander?" Rolland had stopped momentarily, leaning away to look the other in the face. The king was panting, brows furrowed and eyes glazed over. Thaddeus had never seen the man such a mess.

"I simply don't want you jumping out the window and breaking your legs in your haste, sire."

Rolland was about to respond, but his mouth shut upon realizing that the carriage was lowering to the ground. "Let go of me," he barked.

"My king, please—"

"Release me, Commander. _Now._ " Rolland's voice was thick with frustration. "This is an order."

Hesitantly, Thaddeus's arms loosened. The king sprung forth from the man's hold, opening the carriage door so hard it slammed shut right in the commander's face. Rolland wasn't thinking properly at all, and Thaddeus couldn't help the sunken feeling seeping deep into his gut. Not only did he have to make sure his troops survived, he had to babysit the king and try to find the missing princess.

Thaddeus sighed. It was going to be a long night.

"Calm those horses!" Rolland's voice yelped as another explosion befell the mountain just up ahead, causing the Pegasi to scream and panic against their restraints. Thaddeus leapt from the rocking carriage, moving to where the knights had gathered, each of them looking worried and expectant.

"Alright, men," Thaddeus tried to keep his voice loud enough for his men to hear him, but quiet enough that the Izuvellian soldiers did not. "We have only one goal—to find Princess Sofia and the royal sorcerer. Try to avoid being seen. I don't want a bloody battle here tonight."

As the commander went on with strategies and techniques, Rolland felt far too manic to stay still. The king wandered off through the forest, stopping momentarily to peer through the brush and access the land. Armored men were yelling orders at each other, moving cannons and other assortments of large weapons closer to the largest of the mountains, firing relentlessly.

"So the messenger from Izuvell wasn't lying…" Rolland murmured to himself, eyes darting up and down the mountain as large chunks flew here and there, looking for signs of his sorcerer or daughter.

It was a shock to the king, if he was being honest with himself, but it was just what he needed. Optimism sparked within his hopeless body, rising his spirits just enough to keep him sane, if only for just a bit longer. Why the king of Izuvell would inform them of their plans, Rolland truly didn't know. Perhaps everything before him was a façade, and they were waiting until he got just close enough for them to strike.

"I wish you'd stay with me, sire." Thaddeus's irritated voice whispered from behind, causing the royal to jump. "I honestly can't comprehend why you're so eager to die tonight, my king."

"You'd understand if you had children." Rolland muttered, ignoring the quick flit of hurt that passed along the commander's face.

"You don't need children to be willing to die for someone, my king." Thaddeus sighed, joining the other in the thick brush. "I just wish _you_ wouldn't be."

* * *

The group quickly broke into two. Matilda, Orville and Gertrude headed the opposite way. Cedric, Sofia, Dolphus and Theophilus sprinted in the other direction, desperately hoping to reach the bottom.

They had attempted to sneak away, but luck was not on their side. The soldiers spotted them on the side of the mountain, aiming their cannons in the group's direction. They managed to run fast enough to just keep themselves ahead of the blasts, but keeping steady with the heavy fire around was not so easy. A smaller eruption fell just overhead, covering Theophilus in soil. A good-sized rock hit the mage in the shoulder, earning a yelp. Sofia fell from the intense shaking of earth beneath them, Cedric pulling her back up before her knees could scrape against the dirt.

"Oh damn this," Dolphus growled, pulling his wand from his cloak. "I don't care anymore how uninvolved we are or aren't supposed to be, this is just getting ridiculous."

Pointing his wand towards a particularly large group of soldiers, Dolphus shot a bolt of magic their way. The lightning-esque spell quickly had bodies flying here and there, the men squirming and foaming against the soil. Sofia turned away with a whimper, Cedric pulling her behind him so as to cover the view of the soldiers perishing below them.

Sofia was strong—unreasonably so. Cedric knew this better than anyone. The woman had the conscience of a saint, with the vigor and stubbornness of a bull. She'd turned witches to the light side and aided in helping defeat notorious evil-doers. Sofia was the epitome of goodness and power. That being said, the princess was not good with seeing others in pain. No matter what they could've done, Sofia did not do _suffering_. She believed there was good in everyone. It was perhaps her biggest fault, and Cedric knew she was lucky that he was able to be saved from his former wickedness, otherwise he could've very easily been her untimely end.

"Not too much, Dolphus." Theophilus huffed to the other mage warningly, roughly grasping his shoulder. "We don't need them suspecting us of anything."

"I don't need to be scolded like a child—I know what I'm doing." Dolphus snapped, sharply snapping his wrist forward and sending another bolt of magic downwards. "I've been here longer than you, have you forgotten?"

"Barely," Theophilus scoffed. "I've always been the responsible one."

"You _have_ to be joking me!" Dolphus stopped momentarily to stare at the canine incredulously, only moving again when Cedric bumped into his back. "This is coming from the one who caused _all_ of the recent shenanigans!"

"Less bickering, more running!" Cedric pushed past the men as the two had slowed on the downward path, towing Sofia along with him. The sooner they reached the bottom, the sooner they could escape, and the less damage they would take.

Finally, limbs burning and lungs begging for air, they reached the bottom of the mountain. Cedric held his breath and jarred his eyes closed as they ran through burnt fields of bodies. The smell of charred flesh and the screams of a few men clinging to consciousness hung thick in the air. Hope bubbled up within Cedric as he saw a break in the live soldiers—they could make it!

Before he could think otherwise, the sorcerer found the breath swept from his lungs, and he fell to the ground, the previous momentum from his running causing him to hit the dirt rather harshly, rolling and scraping against the soil. Sofia stopped herself abruptly beside Cedric's tensed body, confusion and worry racked upon her face as she watched him gasp for air and claw at his neck.

Theophilus's head whipped up, eyes speedily scanning the surrounding area in search for the cause of Cedric's distress. His hood was pulled up, preventing his face from being seen.

And there, standing proudly (albeit a bit limply) in front of the remaining soldiers, stood the burnt and scarred form of Bartholomew.

"Idiot," the Izuvellian sorcerer spat, eyes narrowed and spiteful. "You thought you'd leave me to die trapped in that damned forest—that I'd just up and perish on my _own_?" He released his powerful magic, and immediately Cedric began to gasp ad stutter, hastily pulling air into his burning lungs. Bartholomew went on righteously, "I am the _provoker._ I am the one they send when they need a job done and all of their other fools have _died trying._ And here you thought that you could wipe out my whole damn team and make an attempt on my life—and get away with it!"

In all of his years, Cedric thought he'd never seen a being more hateful than the one hunched before him. Standing to his full height, the Enchancian sorcerer pushed Sofia behind him, gritting his teeth and standing his ground before the brute. Bartholomew seemed to take this as a challenge, smiling wickedly, flinging his wand out once again and sending a blast of energy directly at Cedric's chest.

Cedric was just as fast, though, and Bartholomew's magic was met by an equal match. The men pushed themselves, exerting as much power as they could muster, both tired from recent exertions. Finally, the energy balling up in between them burst, sending both men flying backwards into the soil. Cedric immediately bounced back to his feet, but it was not so hard for Bartholomew. The other sorcerer was struggling to stand, and his soldiers eventually reached down to gingerly pull the pained man back up.

Bartholomew's chest was heaving, and he grimaced at his sore body being pulled by the other men. It was obvious the sorcerer had attempted to heal himself, but his wounds were not completely healed. The man was burned quite bad, his once rather dashing face now covered in blotchy spots, some clumps of raven hair now burnt from his scalp.

Despite this, Bartholomew took a few steps forward, aggressively shaking the soldiers trying to aid from his form. He was slow and wavered dangerously, but kept his balance nonetheless, clutching his wand in his right hand so hard his knuckle turned white. It would've looked pathetic, had the man's eyes not held a fury so harsh it burned holes into Cedric's form.

So distracted by the other man's struggling, Cedric was caught off guard. A quick wave of Bartholomew's wand cast the sorcerer aside, pushing Cedric several feet away and pulling him ruthlessly to the ground, his wand flying to Bartholomew, who held it with his own. In a swift move (considering the man's current state), Bartholomew had Sofia in his grasp, yanking her up by her wavy brown locks and jabbing the point of his wand into the soft flesh of the woman's neck. Sofia seethed, trying to fight and instantly stilling at the cold, slick wood prodding against her flesh.

"No!" Cedric scrambled to his feet, stepping forward and stopping when the princess hissed at the wand being forced further against her skin.

"Looks like our strong sorcerer here has a weakness, eh?" Bartholomew smirked to his men. More had come to gather around them, surveying the scene with wide eyes. The Izuvellian sorcerer went on, "Come on, _Cedric the Sensational_. I've told all of my men about all of the strange magic you were doing that night in order to save this here girl. Go on, show them!"

"Wh—" Cedric was frozen, stuck at a crossroads as the soldiers around him began to hoot and holler enthusiastically. He stood still for a long time, unable to move, unsure of what to do. He knew he could not use wandless magic in front of so many witnesses, and yet he also knew he could not—would now—let Sofia die.

"Come on, Ceddy," Bartholomew coaxed, smile broadening sickeningly, "show us what you've got. Kill me with that magic of yours. Kill me, or I kill her."

Cedric's mind was racing. He was being forced to make a choice between revealing wandless magic to the world, or losing the only person who had ever truly loved him and who he had ever loved with all of his heart. The sorcerer knew, deep down, that he would not be able to go on should anything happen to Sofia. He would not be able to fight for Enchancia, for he would have failed the only person he had ever truly wanted to protect.

Glancing back to Theophilus and Dolhus behind him, Cedric found his cheeks heating with anger at the way they just stood there, not moving to help him, not wanting to risk any further attention to themselves after all Dolphus had previously done. Theophilus was holding tight to his hood, pulling it firm over his features to prevent anyone from seeing his face. Rage swelled in Cedric at their nonchalance, when there the sorcerer stood in such distraught, his love's life on the line right before his eyes. They didn't care. They didn't care, and it hurt.

Perhaps Cedric had gotten the wrong idea. After Theophilus had jumped in to help so many times before when it was clearly against the rules, Cedric had assumed that the dog would do the same here, but he did not. Theophilus's generosity stopped here, stopped where their identity could be risked in a way that was irreversible. Perhaps, with Cedric's lack of friends during his whole life, he had mistaken the canine's kindness for friendship.

The fury built slowly inside of Cedric, and he willed his hands to stop heating up as they were. Did he have no friends in the world? Was he truly alone, besides Sofia? Sofia, who had treated him better than anyone else, who had almost given up her life not too long ago just to find Cedric. The sorcerer briefly felt shame, for he knew that she would not have thought twice about saving him, and here he was taking his sweet time. How could he have ever thought of siding with the mages when they had not sided with him—how could he have ever thought of keeping their secret safe at the risk of the only person who mattered to him in the world? Finally, Cedric nodded once to himself. He could not let her die. He raised his hands to act, but was stopped by a single fleeting sentence in his head.

 _Use wandless magic, and you die._

It had popped into his head so suddenly that it took the sorcerer by surprise, stopping him straight in his tracks. The words were not his own, and he knew this. They were an intrusion, an invasion of his mind. Briefly Cedric thought of Godric, of how the mage was always able to know what others were thinking and feeling, and the sorcerer wondered if this was what the man had meant.

The thoughts were Dolphus's, Cedric was sure. When he turned to look at the mage, he saw the man's fist clenched tight around his wand, ready to strike down the sorcerer if he made a move to use wandless magic.

Cedric grit his teeth. If the mage wanted to keep their secret so damn bad, why didn't he kill Bartholomew with his own wand? Was this a test? Did he simply not want to risk drawing attention to himself?

Desperation was beginning to ebb away at Cedric's conscience. When he looked back up to Sofia, however, he saw her lips moving, mouthing something to him.

 _'Distract him!'_

Silently, Cedric hoped that whatever the princess had planned was fool-proof—one wrong move and she would be dead. The sorcerer decided on taunting his love's assailant, sneering, "I thought you were supposed to be an evoker, Bartholomew. So far you've done a rather poor job—both at evoking Enchancia into war _and_ protecting your men."

The other man's face twisted in anger. "I've never failed at doing my job—not now, not ever." He snarled.

"Is that why all of your men were slaughtered and you were left looking like a used candle?"

It was a low blow on Cedric's part, but it had done the trick. Bartholomew's wrath had obstructed his concentration, and his wand had pulled about an inch away from Sofia's neck. Seizing the opportunity, the princess quickly ducked down, using her hand to push Bartholomew's away, forcing his wand to point away from her. A bolt of magic erupted from the man's wand, but it fell well over the woman's head, striking a nearby tree.

Snatching Cedric's wand from Bartholomew, Sofia tossed it to her beloved. Cedric caught it, turning to cast a spell directly at the Izuvellian sorcerer, knocking the man into his soldiers hard enough to break bones. Bartholomew's body fell limp upon the ground, and Cedric wrapped his arms around Sofia in a crushing hug, heart beating rapidly, ecstatic to have her safely in his arms. She was an impressive woman, Sofia was—more so than he gave her credit for, Cedric realized.

The sorcerer sent a powerful blast through the soldiers surrounding them, leaving a trail of fallen men wide enough for the four of them to escape, running through the clearing and into the forest on the other side. Arrows were being slung at them, soldiers trotting after them, slow in their heavy armor. Cedric pushed Sofia ahead, hoping desperately that at least Theophilus and Dolphus would protect her when their identities were not at risk. The sorcerer then turned back, sending magic bolts hurdling towards the men, attempting to slow them down.

"Cedric!"

Said man stopped straight in his tracks, head whipping to the voice— _that voice_ …

King Rolland II had stood from where he had been hiding in the brush, eyes wide and more distressed and weary than Cedric had ever seen them. The king had an arm stretched out, fingers reaching for Cedric as if to grab him, calling the sorcerer's name frantically.

Cedric looked at the king—his king—and stood still for a few seconds too long. An arrow embedded itself in the sorcerer's arm, and he hissed, instinctively raising his hand to the wound. Blood trickled from his hand, but Cedric turned and began to fight back again with his magic. Rolland's face revealed his shock, though at what exactly, Cedric wasn't sure.

Again the king called his name, but Cedric turned and ran into the bush, disappearing with Sofia and the mages.


End file.
